"Tell me why you hate your job at the restaurant."
The answer: "It's having to fake pleasantness that makes me feel both worthless and lonely."
That, my friends, in a nutshell, is why working in customer service sucks.
Part of a dialogue from a short story called "Something About Birds" by Paul Tremblay.
It is as helpful to meditate on the meaningless of life, as it is to meditate on the meaning of life.
Jon woke up to The Stench.
It began years ago as a minor odor, a nuisance, but nothing he couldn't deal with. Better than that, nobody else seemed to notice. At least they didn't say anything to him about it.
But lately it had been getting progressively worse. His cat slept next to him, instead of on his chest. And the pain kicked in. In his gut. Mild at first, but getting to a point where it occasionally doubled him over.
It smelled like garbage, it felt like needles.
Jon went to visit Dr. Robert. The good Doc recognized the problem immediately, as he recoiled at The Stench in the cramped examination room.
Dr. Robert said "Jon, you are rotting from the inside out. Your organs are probably 75% liquid at this point. Soon you'll be pissing liver and shitting kidney, and shortly after that you'll be dead."
Jon staggered into a chair, almost toppling it over. He asked "Where is this coming from ? (although, darkly, he suspected he knew the answer).
Dr. Robert said "I've seen this before. Many times. Jon, you are not living the life you were born to live. No human can survive that. Your mind is in constant conflict with what your body is doing. The battle intensifies as you stray farther from where you should be. Until your body temperature begins to rise, and keeps on rising until organs start to melt. Your body is essentially eating itself."
Jon spoke, tears running down his cheeks. "I hate my life, always did, just like everyone else does theirs. But I always thought I would have time to straighten it out. I thought I had time."
Dr. Robert "There's never enough time. Procrastinating while your soul suffocates, putting your head down like a bull as you make your way mistakenly through the wrong life, is plain stupid. You are 72. You are out of time. Unhappiness is a symptom. You ignored it. Now you pay."
Jon begged. "Isn't there anything you can do? I need one more chance. I can change direction, I can change myself - I just need a little more time. Please."
Dr. Robert "You are done. I'm sorry, Jon, but you have been unhappy for 50 years. You had plenty of time to do something about it and you pissed it all away. Please leave. I have other patients to see."
Jon walked out of the building like a drunken man. People on the street gave him a wide berth as they passed, because of The Stench. It was intense and would only get worse.
He heard kids laughing behind him. Reaching back to his right thigh, he realized his pants were wet. Worse than that, what he felt was thick and sticky. He knew the end was near.
Jon made it home and lay down on the couch, sobbing. He reached out to his cat - he needed her love now more than ever. She jumped up on his chest, but immediately jumped back down and curled up in his recliner.
Jon was alone.
He died later that day, as November darkness settled into his living room.
The kitchen/dining room table sits in the room, fully extended; polished and looking good.
Six chairs sit around it, carefully situated. The folding chairs have been put away. A high chair sits off to the side.
All of this sits directly in front of the sliders that lead out to the deck. Brilliant sunshine illuminates the whole scene.
The only problem is that it is Monday morning. Everything that happened here, happened yesterday.
It is so quiet now.
Yesterday, in this house, there were eight adults, one 2 and 1/2 year old, 1 dog, and two cats. This place was alive. It was a moment.
That's what family is. A series of moments. Not often enough, and quickly gone by, but precious as precious can be.
There was good food, conversation, laughter, football on TV. The Kid was a kid - fun, energetic, unpredictable, fresh and alive. The cats and the dog were initially separated, but thanks to the stubbornness of the little one, we let them mingle and.......................it was painless. They were curious, each to the other, but that's as far as it got - no rough stuff or difficult scenes. It was pretty cool.
Carol and I got to spend around four hours with our family yesterday, celebrating a birthday and an anniversary. It is what we live for. It is what everybody lives for. Spending time with people you trust, people you love, people you respect, in a comfortable and fun setting just being family. Just being alive, judgement and responsibility-free.
Sitting in my recliner this morning, glancing over in between pages at the sun drenched scene, and alternately feeling sad and smiling.
I want my entire life to be that moment. I'm tired of worry, tired of obligations, tired of being responsible.
I am tired of feeling that I am at war with the world and everyone in it. It kinda wears me down.
But I do have those moments. Moments that justify my existence.
I'll take them every chance I get.
".............You carry the weight, the weight of the world,
It's breaking you down on your back like a boulder
Before it's too late, get rid of it, get it off your shoulder
I know you've been used, but you got to lose the weight of the world
..................It all comes down to who you crucify,
you either kiss the future or the past goodbye
.................It's taking us down and the night's growing colder
Just blame it on fate, that was yesterday,
And we're just growing older
We've all been abused
Now it's time to lose the weight of the world"
From Weight of the World, by Ringo Starr
Just ran out to Walgreen's to get Carol's drugs - Ringo lightened the load.
Judy moved out yesterday.
She was our next door neighbor. Her husband Yvon died in April. Their house has not sold yet.
His death hit hard. Our homes are close together; you know when people are coming and going, you pick up on their rhythms. Especially at night - when lights go on, when they go off. Judy has been working part time at Market Basket for a while now, fighting to survive. Since April, she came home to an empty house.
Her loneliness was obvious, and hard for us to deal with. She was alone and it was impossible to miss.
Got Carol and I thinking about and talking about what that will be like. In the future, I will be living alone or Carol will be living alone. Inevitably. Being so aware of Judy's heartache made our thoughts and discussions more painful. Too real.
Judy and Yvon had a wooden cross hanging in a window directly across from the picture window next to my recliner. Challenging me. Indicting me.
As I sat in the chair preparing for work yesterday, the movers were marching through her house. I caught movement out of the corner of my eye, glanced over and noticed the cross missing. Not sure if that is bad for me or good for me.
When I got home from work, Judy and Yvon's house was in complete darkness.
We live in an over 55 community. Been here three years this month. Many people have died in that time. I'm guessing around ten or so. Shit, just between Christmas 2025 and spring 2026, three or four people died.
Death stalks me and Carol. He dances just outside our field of vision, laughing because we don't know when he will strike. But he knows.
Our neighbor on the other side of us just put her house up for sale. Soon we will be surrounded by two empty houses. In her case, she screwed up her life. Driving without a license, bagged three times in short succession, car impounded, she spent a few months in jail. Suddenly she's moving to Kansas, to reunite with her "boyfriend."
But people are bailing in general. The guy that owns the place is a Royal Prick. He is raising lot rentals through the roof. Older residents have been driven to food banks and fuel assistance programs, just so they can pay the fucking rent. People are forced to move, even though they are losing huge money when they sell.
We are in such a weird place. The community is dwindling. Many people have sold or just walked away in the last three years. Many people have died. There is a darkness here, leading to something. We are just not sure what that will be.
It is sad, because we were so happy when we moved here. New location, new people, a safe and quiet community. But reality doesn't give a shit about happiness. Reality forces you to worry about sickness and death, reality forces you to find a way to survive financially, no matter what it takes, or what must be sacrificed.
Sitting in the recliner last night doped up on TV, occasionally glancing over at the dark house next door. Pitch black. No more life there. There were two lives there just a short time ago, two people sharing a life that they made. Lives compromised by greed, lives shattered by death.
Reading this morning, took a break to catch my breath, looked at the empty house next door and the empty window across from me.
I wasn't impressed by the cross when it was there, but its absense is unsettling.
As my brain deteriorates over the years, I invent exercises to beef up my memory.
Recently I decided to memorize song lyrics. What could be more natural for me?
I consume music like a devoted Catholic consumes The Wafer - as a staunch believer with hope of redemption.
There are approximately 20,000 songs already in my brain - songs I sing along with every time I hear them (unless someone else is around). There are a million more I don't have memorized; I mean, how much more can one man do?
Naturally, I started with Kris Kristofferson. Reciting his lyrics is like praying; good for my soul, while simultaneously flexing my memory.
The Pilgrim, Chapter 33. The song examines a man's life - had it all, lost it all, rose up, struck down. Still, he believes there's something better coming along. But he's not sure if "believin' is a blessing or a curse, or if the goin' up was worth the comin' down."
We end up here: "But if this world keeps right on turnin' for the better or the worse, and all he ever gets is older and around, from the rockin' of the cradle to the rollin' of the hearse, the goin' up was worth the comin' down."
Suggests to me that it is worth it to have just lived a life, whether you get what you want or not.
Right now, all I'm getting is older and around. Oddly enough, I still want more. 10% of my soul believes I can achieve that. That 10% keeps me going.
But I'm also trying hard to shift my thinking from apocalyptic to appreciative. Got a good family, don't want to lose sight of that, looking through a lens of despair.
It's a tightrope I'm walking. I'm doing the best I can. Still, I feel life draining out of me a bit more every day.
So far, my balance is good, although I am forced to reach out a steadying hand from time to time.
