 Verge
of Tears
[Caution: whining ahead. Viewers with low whiner tolerance
would do best to skip this entry.]
I'm feeling tears prickle at the edges of my eyes.
A lot of bitterness and dissatisfaction is coming to a head, and the time
is come, actually probably has come and gone, to confront the source of
all this bad feeling and make a break. I am so weary of investing
so much time and work and hope into things that don't pan out, that continually
let me down. For the past month or so I have contributed virtually
nothing toward the accomplishment of a dream, because I no longer have
faith. No faith in the medium, no faith in the project, and most
sadly of all, no faith in the head of the project. I need to address
that peron and let it be known that I cannot be relied upon. That
it is time for me to go.
It's so frustrating, so wearying, so demoralizing
to have one dream after another, each one more plausible, more possible
than the last, that just die on the vine. But you hang on and you
hang on anyway. Trying to extract some life from it, to make
it work somehow.
Oh God how I want soemthing to believe in, something
that I can really believe in. Some cause or idea or goal that
I can get fired up about and run with it until it becomes.
What I really need is a way to make a living. It doesn't even have
to be something I like anymore, my standards have dropped considerably.
I don't really care if I am painting radium on glow-in-the-dark watches,
as long as I can get a steady check. An adequate check. Translate
that as food, for the family. Rent. You know the deal.
So many of these big dreams have a promise of, at
their end, a nice steady check. Royalties or rents or whatever.
Toll positions. Set yourself up so that every transaction has to
pass through you. Well that getting set up part is the bitch, my
dear heart.
Part of it is disgust, that I could lose heart,
when I was so committed. How much does it take to make you bitter?
Is there a finite measurement? I'm tired. I wanna cry. |
