September blues

I’m going to take a few minutes’ break from “shakedown mode,” as one reader of this blog has called it, to talk about ho-hum stuff.  If ramblings aren’t your thing, you may wish to skip this one.

I have two jobs, both part-time.  In the summer, they slack off considerably.  (Don’t worry, I’m not a public school teacher.)  The days after Labor Day are when the piper has to be paid, and my time has to be budgeted in completely different fashion, and I am not a good transition person at all.  Currently I feel like someone has turned me upside down and shaken me all over the place.  (Yesterday, I made not one, but two trips to Suburbia–enough to last me for a month, I might add.)  In some ways, it makes the steady 9-5 routine look like it’s easier to manage.

Nevertheless, it makes me wonder:  how in the world do people do it?  Perhaps this begs the question:  are people doing too much?  And finally:  why do people have to work so much?  (Many 9-5 jobs go well over the standard 40-hour limit, as well all know.)  Perhaps it’s because the Federal Reserve has crippled our spending power.  (Everyone likes to blame private employers for paying salaries that are too low; perhaps the problem is that the government has perverted the currency.)  But add to the standard job demands six soccer games a week, band practice, the church knitting club, etc., and it’s a wonder that today’s parents aren’t all in an asylum.  I get tired just watching some people.

I have to wonder about many of these people:  are they alive?  Have you looked into the eyes of many of these people?  Work is necessary (along with post Labor Day transitions), but is misery?

In any case, it’s September, the worst month of the year besides February.  And as icing on the cake, my city is experiencing the yuckiest weather since mid-June.  I can’t wait for October, when I will have found my stride, and when I can light a cigar, put on a hat, and take a stroll across the crunchy leaves.

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3 Responses

  1. Ah, Suburbia. None of the clean air of the country, and none of the culture of the city.

  2. I have to wonder about many of these people: are they alive?

    I think that I am, but how can one be certain?

    To go on, and probably unnecessarily, what is the essence of being “alive,” in the sense that you’re talking about?

  3. Hmmmm. Every simple term that comes to mind to try to explain this has a downside to it. Maybe it’s best to expand the question into several questions:

    Are people living a full life? Do we have an appreciation for philosophy (even in a simple sense) and beauty? Are we “human doings” or “human beings,” as one person once put it? Is everything properly prioritized, or do some things come to dominate more than their fair share of our lives? Have we abandoned “being” in favor of “becoming”?

    No one knows how to sit still anymore. *I* don’t know how to sit still anymore. We get on the merry-go-round, going from one task to the next, and don’t devote nearly enough time to think about what the purpose of all this is.

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