No backstory

On the way home from work I saw the body of a squirrel laying in the road. I didn’t go home and get my camera today because the truth is, there will be more. There will always be more. And that thought is eerie. It’s not eerie because things are dead, or always dying. It’s eerie because I was on a course of thinking that seeing all of these dead animals all the time was a treat. Something secret, and special. A fascinating gift that the world was giving me, of being in the right place, at the right time, to find something wild and beautiful, and be able to see it close-up. But it’s not that. It’s coincidence, and even if it isn’t even anything as mundane, it doesn’t matter because there will always, always be more.

It’s no secret that I love treats. I consider tasty food “treats,” things I get in the mail “treats,” neat things I find on the ground “treats,” surprisingly wonderful conversations “treats,” and cigarettes “treats.” I love treats. But the problem with treats is that there is a never ending supply of then. Because I am grown up I can treat myself to treats all day. And I become jaded from this.

God, I’m so mopey today.

I didn’t get the job. I didn’t get the job and I am disappointed. I would have done a good job. Sure, I was afraid, but I would have done a good job.
The world feels unfair, at times like this. It seems like hard work rarely equals the reward promised. It’s upsetting. What is more upsetting, however, is that part of me the knows I could be working harder. I’ve come to the point, maybe, where I’ve got to make some decisions.
I helped some customers today who were talking about teaching. They must have been in their forties. I considered them real grown-ups–teachers–and I felt relieved about how much time I had left before I was an adult. Where is that feeling now?

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2 responses to “No backstory

  1. Even though I’m not sure which job you’re referring to, I’m sorry. I think you’re one of the few people that could do any job they’d like to, and be good at it. Really.

  2. icecreamsocialite

    Thanks, Kait. It was a job at the publishing house here in Minneapolis that I interned at last fall.
    Bummer…but, there’s always something else.

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