…and truth to tell I don’t want to go.
I don’t want to go back to everyone’s mishugas and neuroses. I have enough of my own. They’re my invisible third piece of carry-on luggage.
I don’t want to go back to an horrific bank balance that will force me back to begging for extended Unemployment benefits or prevent me from getting them at all because (gasp!) I worked in some state other than Jersey for five months.
I don’t want to go back to ringing phones, lies to recruiters, fielding piss-and-moan questions from my (former) students.
I don’t want to have to try a Hanukah miracle by stretching no money to reach until the end of February.
I don’t want to have to try to get what probably is a non-existent job in a supermarket or drugstore. Again.
I don’t want my life to be measured in dollar bills! Can anyone in the post-capitalist pee-market system that is the American economy even begin to figure out what I’m saying, or am I going to be told to Deal With It. Okay, I will. So can I come live with you?
I went in August for what I loved instead of what I was compelled to do. And I think of a saying attributed to Kierkegaard: “Do it or don’t do it — you will regret both.” So yes. I am the permanent malcontent, forever, for whom all is too much and nothing can be quite enough. It’s really not fun to run up against the life you have made for yourself–the life of bad choices coming from good motives and dreams deferred.
It is as though joy is necessarily withheld to challenge faith, to challenge anything I try to believe about God, the hard-fought believe that he is something other than the perpetual mugger. I am sick to death of carrying that idiot conception of God, but he keeps showing up as the result of good choices, to bring me sad consequences.
So I will go home tonight, assuming the plane isn’t marooned in Portland, and return to the trap I sprang on myself years ago. No, I won’t chew my leg off to get out of it. I think I might miss the benefits.
Besides, few people write Bitterness as well as me, so why renounce that spur?