Monday, June 22, 2009

When Despair is Knocking at the Door

Today was my first full day of unemployment and already I feel the clammy hand of fear clutching at my gut. The recession-on-steroids continues to gobble jobs like the Blob gobbled people in that 1959 horror flick. President Clueless continues to prolong and worsen the situation. Al Qaeda has expressed their desire to use Pakistan's atomic weapons on America and North Korea continues to threaten nuclear war over trifles. Every silver lining has a cloud. It's easy to hear despair knocking at the door of my mind and I feel like curling up in a fetal position in some dark corner and sucking my thumb. Paralysis seems only natural in such a situation, to just give up. But I can't do that. I have people depending on me, not to mention a dog and two cats. And those cats get mean when they don't get fed.
I took my bass down to a street corner and played bass riffs, hoping to collect some coins from the passers-by. One of them offered me a dollar to stop and a wino with a cardboard sign told me to get off "his" corner. I just can't get any respect. I feel rejected, dejected and ejected.

I should count my blessings. Unlike poor little Neda Soltan, I still draw breath. There are worse things than having to face difficult not having to face difficult problems because you are dead. I don't have to live in a place like Iran (not yet anyway). I'm still on the right side of the grass.

Tomorrow I will send out some more resumes, looking for temporary and contract work, even though it seems hopeless. But you know, I am just too damned mean and onery to quit. So when despair knocks on my door, I will open the door -- and kick despair right in the nuts.

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