I have hit backspace on this writing 3 times because it is hard to describe what I am trying to describe.
Sometimes when I am traveling and I see a shopping center from a slightly elevated perspective I have a rush of emotions that tap into each one of the business in the complex. This feeling goes something like this.
Wow look at all of these individual efforts to stake their claim in the free world. There is an owner behind that billboard. A man or a woman who wakes up early and worries about how they will get customers into their hole in the wall restaurant. There is a vacuum repair shop who comes in on their terms and perhaps does not need the income this store produces. How could they. They are never open. There is a woman trying to “Crush it” in the woman’s business world as a clothing reseller but displaying a few select blouses in the window. Yet right next to her window is the water store with a faded poster in the window for a Chinese dance company tour that has come and gone over a year ago.
I become melancholy over the realization that this world is crowded with so many people trying to make it in their own way. Some have big goals and some have no goals at all other than to keep their small local business open long enough to enjoy their weekends for the rest of their lives. Not that they are hoping to pass along an empire built on cigarettes and hookah pipes adorned with Bob Marley t-shirts on a half empty rack accented by a worn out cardboard sign with the words sale hand written and taped to the end post. As if somehow this will be the thing that will finally get rid of this shit.
Am I insane to be tortured by the sense that I am so small in this world and that because of my size I should be intimidated by its size and therefore rendering my potential to a fate of mediocrity regardless of how hard I try.
I mean. Look at me. I am an almost 45 year old man with the mind that can only be compared to an octopus on LSD. I got hands and arms flying in multiple directions trying to grasp that which cannot be categorized in an effort to find my storefront of life. Tha at some point I will come the that “aha” mount that will be the result of my speaking out and someone listening. Then paying for me to say some more. Or that I would create something with my hands and that some one would ask if I have more. I suppose Theron lies my fear. That when someone enters the store of my creations that one would look at the random items along a series of shelves and they would ask if I have something else and not more of the same.
This would mean that the goods that I felt were worthy of putting on display were actually of no worth to anyone but myself. That Some how I was not tending to a store but that I was a docent at a Meuse university of random acts and creations of a renaissance man with now clear direction. That I was holding open a gallery for people to come in, look , be stricken with awe or perhaps mild curiosity and then leave.
Yeah, this worries me greatly. I spend a tremendous amount of time learning and hone in my ability to understand social media, sales, networking and content creation yet I have nothing to show for it.
A bank account that with one adversity or tragedy would have me on the side of the freeway twirling a sign for that very same store owner selling hookah pipes and cigarettes.
I push forward with such tenacity and force that if only someone in the corporate world would look at this in awe and find a place for me to clock in and clock out in a trade for the security free of worry and toil. The variety of my routine would in many ways defy the groundhog day theory and yet looks very similar to the yesterday.
I wake, I meditate from the porcelain throne for a few minutes as I stumble through a few social media channels then make my way to a couch with a cup of coffee and a laptop. The the direction of the day is building upon the next couple of moves I make. Do I end up falling back asleep? Do I dump my thoughts into text awaiting a glimpse into flow? Or do I allow YouTube to carry me away into an abyss of videos on motivation that by their next suggested video will land me up on Dr. Pimple Poppers Greatest pops of 2014? Next thing I know 2 hours have passed and I still don’t have shit to show for my early morning purpose.
I believe I get this way because I have, since a very young age, always felt as if I am going to do great things and will one day be rich and famous. This feeling carried on from childhood until about my mid thirties. The theme shifted to, being “Under the radar.” That for some reason I am worthy of fame and fortune but only when my time is right. That the universe is holding back from giving me access to abundance because I am not mature or responsible enough to no blow it all on hookers and blow and end up dead on a Las Vegas hotel room floor.