Today was a total waste of a day and I failed in every conceivable way one can fail without it coming to the attention of anybody.
I’m a shitty feminist, because, even though I have all these grand ideas for what a world respectful of me is supposed to look like, when I’m faced with real-life situations where I’m not being treated right, I just sit there and take it.
I’m not getting any work done at work because my heart just isn’t in it. It’s nothing against work. Shoot, you read my posts today. My heart isn’t in this either.
Where is my heart? That is a good question, folks, because I just don’t know. It’s adrift somewhere and I’m adrift without it.
When we were in grad school together, Miss J. loved this poem by Czeslaw Milosz called “To My Daimonion” and the middle part goes like this:
My daimonion, it is certain I could not have lived differently
I would have perished if not for you. Your incantation
Would resound in my ear, fill me,
And I could only repeat it, instead of thinking
About my bad character, the decline of the world,
Or about a lost laundry ticket.
And it seems that while others loved,
Strove, hated, despaired,
I have only been busy with listening intently
To your unclear notes, to change them into words.
I had to accept my fate, called today karma,
For it was as it was, though I did not choose it–
And get up every day to honor the work,
Even if there is no guilt of mine in it and no merit.
I’m not very good at analyzing poetry, but tonight I’m jealous of Milosz. My head hurts, my gut hurts, my soul hurts and when I listen quietly for guidance about what I should do with my small shitty life, nothing comes.
I also am missing out on love, striving, hate, and despair, but if there are unclear notes waiting for me to change them into words, today I don’t hear them.
But it’s okay. I’m going to make myself some dinner and watch a little TV and go to bed. Tomorrow will be better. Or not. But I’ll feel better about things, because this day will be behind me.