|
|
Monday, Nov. 17, 2003 - 9:43 p.m. CALM CHOICE I am tired. I must work twelve hours again tomorrow, for the ninth straight day. The quality of this entry probably hints at my fatigue. The project ends this week. I have been told by the director that I will be promoted, will get a raise, and will be moved to another position working heavily with computers. This new position is the area I have sought to work in since I finished college. Whether I will be subjected to this three-month torture again next year is still up in the air. However, I am too tired right now to be happy. Besides, I would have no one to celebrate with. When my figurative jail-cell opens so that I can experience life again, I will seize every opportunity I get, big or small, to build a gargantuan social life. Tasting a little last year of what is possible and then having it taken away from me by my job has only made me hungrier and more determined to achieve my ultimate social potential. My goal is not to meet the woman of my dreams. I have come to realize that she is but a phantom, a wraith dwelling in my nightmares, not a dream that will ever come true. She is a fantasy that I have imagined since I was a boy, an evil prank that has grown to steal my manhood. She is the queen of the great lie, the distortion of my true self, the perpetuator of my disillusionment and narcissism. However, if I do manage to bump into a woman, she will be as real and human as I am, a reflection of my true self. I feel like a volcano ready to erupt with a passion and zeal for life I have never experienced or exhibited before. I see nothing but a horizon of absolute choice, choices I with be confronted with, and choices I am determined make without avoiding having to make them. Love may or may not be one of those choices, but I no longer care in this regard. I have come to realize such things are beyond my control, and, in this area, I have no choice but to let it control me. It may bring me the happiness in life I have always sought. It may bring untold misery. It may bring me to the depths of depression or the peaks of mania. Or, it may bring me right to where I am now, writing an entry just like this, in exactly one year. It may bring me absolutely nowhere. When I finally escape this project, I will be a calm surgeon, cutting his way into social circles that he has always feared joining. His instruments will be the choices he must make, choices that have always been in front of him that he has been afraid of using. But this time, the operation will be performed with great success, no matter the outcome. |