I need a new job kids! I've elevated workplace daydreaming to an unparalleled level and I still can't figure out what I want to be when I grow up. People are going to start noticing pretty soon that I'm way too far out in my very own imaginary ozone to be productive.
I wasn't meant for this modern reality. I'm a nice person with some trivial talents and I'm great in a crisis, but I'm just not sure I understand the priorities of this modern world. All of this voluntary solitude and obsession with stuff and nonsense like helmet laws and mass marketing. Can't we just cook Sunday dinners and stop pretending like emotional withdrawal is some kind of grown-up and noble response to living in a society that's less-than-perfect?
I'm willing to compromise, but I'm sick of myself and also everybody else's boring anxieties. My tolerance is waning, but it's probably just the weather.
I'm tired of everything and I'm tired of me. I want to feel the sunshine. I want to run off to sea. I want to become Pirate Jenny.
Then one night there's a scream in the night
And you say, "Who's that kicking up a row?"
And ya see me kinda starin' out the winda
And you say, "What's she got to stare at now?"
I'll tell ya.
There's a ship
The Black Freighter
turns around in the harbor
shootin' guns from her bow
Seriously, someone throw me a life preserver or let me swim far, far away. January sucks at 41 and a half degrees North. It's been spongy-gloomy-cloudy for days on weeks on months on end and I'm just feeling oh-so-very SAD.
(Image by Farrizada.)