Three Lives

I've been living three discrete lives and it's starting to wear me out. I don't think it's unusual for one to have multiple lives, but I do think that I'm becoming unusually unsuited for it. Perhaps that's not unusual either?
Maybe everyone has three, four, five, a dozen separate lives - I don't know how you'd measure such a thing - and it's not the sort of topic that comes up in conversation.
In normal conversation anyway.
I seem to be incapable of having normal conversations.

At my day job, the less I say, the better. I'm already pissed today because HR Guy has just told me that the on-line classes I signed up for- at my Boss' recommendation- are only available for management. I am not management, so my request has been rejected.
I ask HR Guy to go over my resume with me. You add this to that and that and I've got 15 years of management experience- I got a freekin' letter from President Clinton about my good work fer chrissakes!

We discuss this:

I could be very useful to the Company as a manager.

But you don't have the training we require of our managers.

That's why I signed up for the classes.

Those classes are only available to managers.
-I'm exasperated at this-

This is a Major Major problem.

I'm sorry you feel that way.

I mean it's a Major Major problem like Heller. Yossarian's nemesis. Catch-22.

Excuse me?
He stands up, red. Holy fuck! He thinks I'm cussing him out- he has no idea what I'm talking about. I give him a grimace/grin. I am in the mood to smash furniture. Smile!


Sorry, I was just reminded of one of our clients- they've got a case with the Heller Group and it's a Major problem- but it's on Legal's end , not a Documents issue.

Oh, OK . I'll see if I can find a way for you to enroll and get back to you on it.

I'm not aware of anything called the Heller Group, but HR Guy acts like I've actually said something that makes sense, which proves he's a fraud since I'm totally talking out of my ass. Is there a medal for bullshit?
I want one. I earned that fucker.
Gold? Nah. Platinumize that thang.


Later I'm training the New Guy and what I want to tell him is :

"We don't really serve any purpose at all. The only reason we are even here is so that the Company can bill the Firm for our presence- not our services, which are minimal- but for our presence. If your pay is similar to mine, you now know what it feels like to told be that you are worthless.
If the Firm used common sense instead of Lawyer Thought, they'd realize it would be much cheaper to fire the Company and just hire one person to do what They claim takes three people to do. If you care about the things you do, this job will make you insane- because nothing you do here matters. Just being here and looking awake is enough- and even that is negotiable. You can be bad enough to get fired, but you can never excell or acheive anything. No matter how hard you try , it comes down to getting fired or not getting fired.
That's all.
The trick is to not care."

That might sound easy, but the reality is that not caring about what I do breaks my heart. That is not the Real Me.

I barely make it until 5 pm without crying at the sheer hopeless stupidity of my job.

Then I go to me favorite place, the Radio Station. I can be myself there, I can talk all the crazy shit I want and nobody gets scared- they just join in. I talk with our Music Director, but we talk about real human things and how we really feel - for a moment we are both sort of mystified that we are part of something as amazingly cool as our tiny little against-all-odds FM station. She tells me that there really is no place she'd rather be than where we are right now.
I agree.
I am inspired , so I take a little bit of that happiness and I send it where it might do some good. This simple human act makes me feel better. I explain to my friend what I'm doing and she assures me that I am doing the right thing and that I'm really quite silly to be so embarrassed.
It's OK to be nice just because you want to.
Why wouldn't it be?
I am told that I am silly. That is true. I am silly.

Maybe it's not such a Fallen World after all.

Life should have more of these simple moments and easy feelings.
I like this.
I like you.
I like sharing this with you.
Simple and easy.

Is it unreasonable to feel like that? It shouldn't be.
It should be normal but for me it's new and kinda exciting.


The station really helped save my life , you know. I can tell her that. It's OK, because she knows me and she knows what I'm about and what it all means to me and oh my, all of this is so good I can barely remember that I was on the edge of suicide a mere hour ago.
So I muddle about for a while and arrangements are made for me to sit-in tomorrow ( tune in 5 ish USA east time if ya want) and there's some recording to do Monday and that's good too, because I like doing that.

Much of what I do at the station is technically impossible, yet I pull it off without sweating. Nobody worries about shit going wrong when I'm around because they know I can fix it.
For me , it's easy.
The secret is caring. I very much care about what I do and my friends know it.
This is the Real Me.
Radio me.
Guitar me.
Even lil' ol' Blogger Me. Those selves are rolled together and that is who I am.

So that's two Mes. Who is #3?

That's the Old Me.
Big Chief Ten Beers.
Ender of Things
Breaker of Promises
Betrayer of Self
Bringer of Storms
Murderer of Feeling

Big Chief didn't worry about anything- he just did stuff. Whatever he wanted, as long as it involved getting lethally wasted.
Good things, bad things, indifferent shit- he didn't care. If things went well, Drink To Celebrate. If things turned out poorly, Drown the Sorrows.
How very,very easy that was for him.

He doesn't come out anymore, which is good. If he returns, I will die- so I sort of hope he is dead- but I'm not quite ready to let my guard down yet. Maybe in fifty years.

Life is strange and wonderful though and I intend on seeing it through, come Heller high water.

Here's picture of our radio station. We are on the 2nd floor. Directly below us a local cool guy is opening a cafe/gallery/coffeeshop- kinda Beat in concept, I believe.



What is he naming his shoppe?
It is to be simply called "Camel".
His name is Alan (sp).
He is not me.

How weird is that?