And I Say To Myself, What A Wonderful World
See the image opposite? That's an actual sticker book on sale in Ballarat. It appears that in Victoria you have to be totally PC with everything you do, hence the Amazing Spider-Person. The Spectacular Spider-Person. Web Of Spider-Person. It doesn't have the same ring somehow. As I've always said, Victorian by birth, Victorian by name, Victorian by nature. I wonder what they call Black Goliath? African American Goliath? Or the Black Panther? Non-White Feline? The list can be endless.
The insomnia has returned with a vengance, along with the semi-pernament nose-bleeding. I find myself lying in bed listening to the night-time world pass by, the hoons doing burn-outs and screaming around corners, the Bath Hotel spewing it's drunks out into the night air, the sounds as they abuse each other with slurred voices ("Fuggoff ya fuggin' crunt!") and the melodic tinkle of many bottles being thrown at walls, cars and heads. Car alarms. Cats yowling to each other across the roofs. Dogs barking. Windows breaking. The other half snoring away blissful in her sleep - something that soothes me and makes me angry all at once. Conflicting emotions abound. I can't sleep, so why should she? Still I'm not that cruel to wake her up just because I fail to sleep.
I usually wake up from my shallow rest at around 4:30 when the Legendary Merlin wakes up and yowls to be let out. I then shut my eyes and wish I can revisit the land of nod, but normally it doesn't quite work that way. More often than not I just lie there in bed and weep silent tears of both physical pain and mental anguish so I don't wake anyone. I want to wake them, but I'd feel more guilty if I did, so I just wait. I'm dreading the end of Daylight Savings when the clock is accurate and it really is 5am and not 6 by the time I stumble out, turn the computer on and let the Legendary Merlin in who'll then yowl for breakfast. Sometimes I think to myself and wonder if that's all I'm good for - feeding the cat, making the morning cup of tea in bed for the other half (not that I actually make the tea in bed) and waking up other members of the household and send them off to where they have to go. At least I can do that well.
I hate my day job. Well, not really. I like my day job, I hate where I'm working. I'm in my sixth region in the last two months, my seventh overall. The next person behind me has worked four regions, most others in my position have worked three or two, there's a select few who've worked in one. I want to return to where I'm comfortable but HR refuse to listen to me or respond to my pleas and emails. Today I'll email them again when I get to work and then allow myself to be subjected to a barrage of abuse from my co-workers, who are convinced that I know nothing because they've not seen me do anything. I often wonder if I'm being punished for things I've done, if this job is the price I have to pay for whatever sins I'm associated with. I don't wan to go to work, I have to force myself to go and appear to be happy and jolly. I'm prostituting myself. I'm no longer making a difference to the people I work for and the people I serve, I'm just a shell that greets them and performs the most basic of functions without any sense of loyalty or security.
I want to be healthy again. Once I was poor, but healthy. Now we're well off, the bills are getting paid and I'm rapidly fading away to a shade of former self. I'm covered in what my other half calls 'crop circles', they've reached my nose which is starting to flake away like Michael Jacksons. My chest is heavy, my shoulders are on fire, my neck hurts. I feel so alone in all of this as everyone just keeps saying, "It'll be alright, just hang in there." Here's some news - it won't be alright and I don't want to hang in there. There's no need or use to hang in there other than the fortnightly salary in the bank. I keep getting told, "Apply for other jobs - you'll get them" and apply I do, but I don't get them. And why? Because if it's a line-ball desicion between me and someone within a region they're gonna go with the person they know, not the guy who keeps getting moved for a few weeks here and there. That's what's happened of late - I apply, I get the interview and the job goes internally. And then I'm told, "It's a matter of time, hang in there". I'd love to throttle the moron who invented that phrase, 'Hang In There'. Yesterday I was told to apply for the same job I'm doing but for $10,000 less a year. I'd get the job, but I'd be doing the same amount of volume of work, in a shit area for a lot less money. Those are the options and they're supposed to be attractive to me. Nope. Still I'll smile the fake smile, laugh the fake laugh, take the abuse and humilation with a certain kind of grace and try not to think of just how enticing it'd be to go to bed tonight and
tomorrow. Or ever for that matter. And that's my mind-set. I'm adrift on an endless ocean of misery and pain. I don't know that the answer is, but I do know this - something is giving and if it's not fixed soon (and I have no idea of how to fix it) then it's gonna break. When the bough breaks, Danny will fall.
I can't even write anymore. I have no desire to write. I've a book to finish and another to start. My motivation has vanished. Eventually I'll force myself to write and then the ils of the world will fall away and I'll be fine - for those moments when I can vanish into that world that I create. However I've been told I suck so much recently that I now believe it. I'm stunned into disbelief when someone tells me that I've done something right or good. The Legendary Merlin is yowling and the house is coming to life. Time to slap on the happy faces and greet the day and it's people. I doubt anyone will ever know how just how bleak and empty I feel inside.
Pure and bloody simple.
I guess that's how it should be. But if my pals read this then perhaps they'll get an inkling of what's going on inside of me and stop telling me that everything is gonna be just fine and to just hang in there because it'll get better. Because it ain't getting better. Because it ain't gonna get better. Life has lost all it's wonderment and joy for me. I find pleasure in the darkness and the sounds it offers forth, because at least the darkness doesn't judge me or patronise me or abuse me, or treat me like a simpleton...
And so on and on and on and on...