Storm

The storm has continued in every way.

After 6 days off to feel the (somewhat surprising) relief of hard manual labour, I returned to work today and realised my mood had not lifted at all. I walked in the door and instantly felt the same as when I left on Friday: angry, disenfranchised, unappreciated, trapped. This is not good at all. If my feelings were simply an off-kilter reaction to fatigue and change, then they should have faded with time. Instead, I am wondering why the fuck I’m still there.

Of course, the answer is now the house. We must work in order to have the house. My hope is that the results make the toil bearable.

The whole truth is that I had hoped the changes at work would offer me a chance to progress forward, and that after two years of spinning in circles I could finally utilise some of my talents and make a positive contribution to the business. That delusion came crashing down last week. I am to remain confined as a small, toothless cog until such time as someone finally notices that I’m ineffective in that spot… and presumably replaces me with a real cog. I have struggled along in bad businesses and under bad managers before, but at least with every job I’ve done I’ve been able to point to my work and show how it has improved the business. I have made every other venue more profitable, and I’m really proud of that fact… I can’t do that here. It would now seem that I will never be able to do that. And I’m wondering how much time I have before the lack of progress counts as a big black mark on my career. “What did you do in your last role?” “Well… I made coffee.”

It’s not even good coffee. But I’m not allowed to change it.

My husband has shouldered this exact burden before, and struggled for years to find a new job while plodding diligently through a role that he hated. He has hopefully, finally resolved that now. He got offered a new job last week and, after a bit of negotiation, there is meant to be a new contract in the mail. We should be ecstatic, but I am still glowering under this dark cloud. My hopes that the cloud would lift are now beginning to fade, and I may have to resolve myself to the fact that this bad weather has set in for the long haul and I’ll just have to deal with it.

***

Naturally, all of this faded into insignificance when I got home from work tonight and found out that some motherfucker person had deliberately ploughed a truck through a crowd of people in France. I tend to hesitate in calling such a man a “terrorist” because it tends to lend political and ideological weight to an individual who probably just has a massive personality disorder. This guy likely isn’t a freedom fighter or part of some kind of army. It doesn’t take training and military-style logistics to drive a truck into a crowd. It does take callousness, fatalism and an enormously overblown sense of self-importance.

Undoubtedly, many people will look no further than the guy’s first name for an explanation of his motivations. Mohammed. And as with the other motherfucker person who shot up the Pulse Nightclub in Orlando, Daesh may leap to take credit before a whole picture of the perpetrator emerges. Indeed, the killer in Orlando was apparently completely unaware of the ideological drive of Daesh – proclaiming variously that he was a supporter of them, Hezbollah and Al Qaeda, without any obvious understanding that these organisations stand on very different platforms and are bodily at war with one another. Many people have claimed that he was part of the gay scene in Orlando, and that he’d recently had an HIV scare. He beat his first wife and there is a suggestion that his second (possibly common law) wife had recently left him and taken their son with her… It all sounds very familiar then when the man in France is described as a violent and petty criminal, not very religious, going through a divorce. If he wasn’t named Mohammed, then people would probably settle their search for motivation on those simple facts. Aggressive asshole, who’s life is being up-ended, decides to take a bunch of other innocent people with him. Trying to attach himself to a big, scary political movement is possibly just an attempt to make himself look more big and scary. In reality, he was insignificant and disenfranchised and just really pissed off about that.

… Oh. I see.

Hmmm.

Character is all about how we deal with these everyday injustices. Right?

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