When there’s only one lifeboat left, it’s best not to shoot the bottom fulla holes. Nuff said?
You know, in June 1981 I did just that - I shot the daylights outa my life raft. As if I had a death wish?
Admittedly, I had. As a coddled senior citizen I now prefer easy listening fare on Spotify, though when I shift to modern jazz, my monstrous inner self-hatred rears its head and tells me point blank that my imminent death renders my comfort useless.
In June of 1981 my mom was dying. Type four lung cancer. No exit.
Tell me, do Any of us really have a one hundred percent proven strategy for staring death in the face? No. We’ll all face that mountain when we have to! Doesn’t that about say it all?
I was reading Chomsky back then, though - he was my death wish personified. So under the pressure of losing my mom - combined with this reading - I started to see my psychological superstructure crack!
As it would that month.
***
My mind still had some health in it, though, a few days before that crack appeared. My career seemed blocked because a junior programmer had caught the fancy of my section head. My coffee buddies routinely bad-mouthed the pair, so I was tarred with their brush by implication.
I would be filing my property records till judgment day, it seemed!
It was a mere jobine.
I was in an anarchistic mood. So I picked up this book. But by expanding my frustration, the only release it gave me was in megalomania, the up side of my bipolarity.
Seeing and sympathizing with my blocked rage, Bob, my supervisor, suggested a day off. I took him up on it, and so next day, I visited Parliament Hill to relax. It was a gorgeous day, after all, and the Tulip Festival was on…
But it was to be a disaster for me.
Arriving at the Hill, I realized parliament was in session. Why not line up for the visitors gallery? So I did.
But, once there, I made an utter ass of myself!
Immersed in the Chomsky Reader, I was taking notes quietly in the gallery when two Americans parked immediately behind me. Funny, they seemed to be talking about me.
Obviously I needed meds. But my shrink had said I didn't need them.
Famous last words...
In a huff, I noisily exited the gallery. I walked back to Elgin Street and went for a snack at the Party Palace.
There, a foreign gentleman came on to me. All the day's events became interlaced by my paranoia. It was circus time.
***
On Canada Day, July 1st, I was admitted to hospital for a short rest. I needed it now, of course.
Once released, I returned to work, my moods properly nullified.
There on my desk was a letter from Personnel. I was being promoted. My free ticket out of property records!
And even though my toxic coffee buddies now laughed at me, a loony -
I no longer really cared!
(To tell the truth, I only smiled, for I was free of them.)
Ready to be a Supply Manager -
An honest job with Honest Work.