I am grateful that I have a job interview on Thursday.
But it's a mixed bag. I'm happy for the possibility of a job to replace the one that I'm losing, but it's still a replacement. I'm not overjoyed at the prospect of new employment. I was just speaking to a friend from the English Department, and I told her, "The idea of learning a completely new job makes me a little weary."
Now, I know I sound like a spoiled, whiny asshole. There are people out there who would kill for this opportunity. People who've been unemployed for years, not months. I feel guilty complaining about my job search. I need to change my attitude because I know any prospective employer is going to pick up on my lack of enthusiasm.
I am grateful for the hope this job interview gives me and my family.
Hope has been a rare commodity in Saint Marty's household for a while. Like platinum or black truffles.
Despite the severe lack of enthusiasm in my previous post, I am grateful for something today.
It isn't my job at the medical office.
It isn't the fact that I get to screen 2001: A Space Odyssey to my Intro to Film students this afternoon.
It isn't that it's only 2:15 p.m. and I've already completed most of my major tasks for the day.
I didn't find a fifty dollar bill on my way to the office.
The Department Head didn't call me this morning and offer me a full-time, tenured position in the English Department.
The hospital didn't reconsider its decision to displace me from my job.
None of that happened.
However, I did wake up this morning, It is almost 50 degrees outside, and it feels like spring. My family is healthy. Tonight, I get to go home early and read The Goldfinch for most of the evening. Maybe I'll buy myself some chocolate to go along with my book.
For all of those small things, Saint Marty is grateful today.
Scrooge closed the window, and examined the door by which the Ghost had entered. It was double-locked, as he had locked it with his own hands, and the bolts were undisturbed. He tried to say "Humbug!" but stopped at the first syllable. And being, from the emotion he had undergone, or the fatigues of the day, or his glimpse of the Invisible World, or the dull conversation of the Ghost, or the lateness of the hour, much in need of repose; went straight to bed, without undressing, and fell asleep upon the instant.
Scrooge isn't very motivated in this paragraph. Jacob Marley has just departed, and Scrooge is exhausted. He's had the crap scared out of him. He's been told he's going to be condemned to an eternity of endless wandering and suffering. He doesn't have a whole lot of motivation left. He can't even get undressed, sort of tumbling into bed without even a last trip to the chamber pot.
This morning, I understand Scrooge's lack of enthusiasm. I don't really feel like sitting down at the keyboard. I have no real thoughts or insights to share, although that has never stopped me before. I could just go back to bed and fall asleep upon the instant, without kicking off my shoes or draining my bladder. I simply don't have much motivation.
I'm reminded of a Bette Midler comedy routine where she plays the most unmotivated person in the world. She goes through a list of normal, daily routines, like washing hair, brushing teeth, washing dishes, and ends each item on the list with the question, "Why bother?" It's hilarious to listen to, but it pretty much sums up my mood this morning.
Thus, I will be ending this post right here. I could go on for another paragraph or two, discussing the reasons why I don't feel motivated. I could talk about lack of sleep or sore feet. I could talk about approaching weather fronts or feelings of inadequacy. I could talk about the collapse of social ethics and morality in the world.
Saint Marty could talk about all these things. But, why bother?
