The Flight of the Rocketman

The biggest blessing came when I realized that the more I love the so-called dark parts of me, the happier I become. The more I am ok with being angry, confused, vengeful, attached -- all those bad, insecure, self-hating aspects -- the better I feel. Some people think, if I push negative thoughts away I'll be happy. But I don't know anyone who's happy when they're pushing away parts of themselves. -- Alanis Morissette (from Insider, July 2004)

I haven't slept yet really. Lots of work to be done. Lately, it's starting to sound like some stupid excuse and the thing is, it's not. I really have decided to take up so much work and trade in a normal life and a social life for a life married to my work. I've seen less and less of my friends and even less of my love, who happens to live very far away. So much for the honeymoon stage, sorry sweetie, but I got to bring home the bacon, even if we ain't living together yet...

It's so easy to look at this as creating some sort of stable foundation for a future when I don't even know how long we'll last. Of course, I'm hoping for the best and the love we have for each other makes us want to make sure this lasts forever. But then, I have been a staunt promoter that everything changes. I just hope that we change together, adapt and grow alongside each other. That this becomes one of the things our humanity will battle against and will fight against. It took me seven years to find this love and I am not going to just let it go so easily and without a fight.

But here I go mouthing off things that are totally incongruent to anything significant as of the moment. It's a self-centered thing, please excuse me.

Right now, reading Margaret Atwood's Oryx and Crake which I so intelligently left behind at home so instead of reading while waiting for my editor to finish the segment, I'm here on the internet trying to occupy myself and failing miserably, I've discovered that I am once again getting my writer's itch which can only be scratched by writing a short story or a poem. Something I haven't done in a very long time. And I want to make sure it's a poem and not a song. And I want to make sure it's a short story and not a movie synopsis.

I've been so glued to my job, the novelty is wearing off (not that I am no longer enjoying it) but the blissful feelings attached are slowly fading away and to regain it, I feel I must distract myself once more.

After all, this is my job, not my life. And I know how easily the two can merge and be mistaken for the other. I can't help but be who I am, which is someone who defines himself through his work and his productivity. It's something I am trying to let go of; but the fear of unemployment and the inability to pay my bills loom over me and I do not want to have to go through that again.

So until my bank account reaches a level that I am comfortable with, this is the life I choose to lead. And later on, when I've reached a point where people look for me by name and pay me huge amounts of money for the things that go into my head, I can sit back and relax a little bit and start to enjoy the fruits of my labour.

But at this moment, I'm still planting trees... And that's okay, as long as I don't faint from exhaustion.