John Lusk Babbott

Fictional ephemera.

SubCon

(Sep. 30)

Realized recently: have entered into vast featureless plain of the middle, i.e. middle age. 

Realization struck following conversation with Harry that “middle age” not related to age in years, but is an Age, i.e. span of time, and one knows they have reached “middle age” when end cannot be seen, beginning cannot recalled, and all features are gone.  Middle age creeps up stealth-like because there is no sign, says Harry, and one only knows middle age has arrived when one finds oneself in the doldrums.  A good time, says Harry, for one to take stock.  Thus, am going to take Harry’s advice and give journal thing a try, because things not exactly zinging, and would like some zing please.  

Honesty time.  Am not exactly depressed, but am tired of being mediocre.  Personal mediocrity is reflected by pointless/inane nature of shift assignments coming down to me from HQ – feel ignored and undervalued.  SubCon is a weird job because can be the best job in the world or worst job in the world, depending on level of communication between SubCon and HQ, and am sick/tired of being non-lucid SubCon employed by non-lucid HQ.  If initiative is never taken, will suffer through eternity (literally!!!) of mediocrity, indecipherable symbols, and low self-awareness.  Through journal, resolve to take hard, honest look at self – are pointless shift assignments my fault, or just result of HQ ignoring Best Practices?

(Additional reason for journal: am worried that the Wife is plotting to kill HQ, and must begin paper trail.  More on this later.)

So, per Harry’s suggestion, am RIGHT NOW committing to writing for five mins after each shift. 

Must remind self: Am WORTH it.

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