And when we finally made it back to the Clackamas site, we found out we wouldn't be allowed to stay very long—low enrollments means no evening orientation, which means the staff goes home early (those slackers!), which means we don't get to use the copy machines to print out syllabuses (syllabi? No, apparently not anymore), which means we will have to frantically compete with each other for copies on Monday morning. Argh.
Today I was tired. No excuses, just gray skies and foggy neurons. Even after the clouds departed, leaving lovely blue sky, my mental fog remained. I knew I should feel peppier, with so much sunlight, but with all the drama and trauma of the week, I just can't seem to conjure any gumption. The best I could do was take out the trash. Some days, that feels like climbing Everest.
It occurred to me today that none of this so-called life, this thing I think is so important, none of it really matters. In the end, all this crap I have accumulated will end up in a landfill. All my art will molder into dust. All my writing, all these stupid journals, will get dumped in the recycling bin and shredded to make more important things like paper bags or cardboard boxes. No one will care, because I have no descendants to speak of. (Well, I have one niece I don't know very well. I guess I could designate her my heir, but that seems like a mean thing to do to someone I like.) I certainly won't care what becomes of all my earthly crap, because I'll be dead, beyond caring, quickly forgotten. The whole sordid thing I call my life is just a blip in the continuum of human existence.
Just a drop in the ocean of life. Just a few breaths in the timeline of breaths. A couple shuffles on the mortal coil. Carrying on the fine tradition of being born, complaining about how life sucks, and then dying to make room for someone else to do the same. You know, it just occurred to me that this blog might outlast me. What a thought. Long live the blip.
