Sometimes I open the latch on my skull
reach in and pretend it's a toy
bounce against the wall
look at it, ya'all
my curve ball
might as well be
or a slider with some gas
This sponge this nerf
it doesn't hurt to try
and taste the essense
of my mind or maybe I
can't tell the difference any more
cause I'm too numb
from every day
The horns they creep behind the screech
of violins and Wilhelm screams
the games the rules mean nothing now
information plowed into the ground
once fertile my mind is barren
the crescendo fades out of tune
vibrations shade the runes
On a pedestal of admiration
stare upon the revocation
of a project all the matters waiting
relieved at last of constipation
all my ideas laid to bare
finally I dare to share to share
can't you hear or see the years
the damage more than I can bear
the games I would rather play
then care again another day
this burden of responsibility
can't you see I'll shed it all one day
just so you and I can play
our bodies old and grey
yet still we will find a way
Sometimes I put it back inside
I hear the screams as the latch
it battened down and then the rings
it runs around inside my skull
the pain it says is all my fault
let me out to play
hear what I say
There's an interesting question floating around: how do you protect yourself from a rogue system admin? The quick answer is, you don't.
Being a system admin is like Uncle Ben's statement in Spiderman: With great power, comes great responsibility. Even if you're "just" the admin of a small business, non-profit, or a public library. Some in this type of position do not appreciate it. How amazing it is to be given this level of responsibility... and trust.
I'm not the best system admin there is, nor will I ever be. The fact is, sometimes it feels like it wears on me, and I give too much, for too little in return. I'm human... with human needs...
Or maybe I'm almost 40 years old and having a mid-life crisis... realizing how much of my life I've given to being as good as I am at this, and the fact that I'm missing what I really want in my life right now.
My patience is unending.
At least I hope it is. What has my mind racing under the influence of logic and denial is that my workplace has come under a state of massive upheaval. When an institution loses institutional memory, is that a loss, or is that an opportunity? Some of my co-workers told me that I should request the larger corner cubicle... but I don't know if I can. Not because it's a big seat to fill or something, but because it might well imply that I am now the holder of institutional memory. And I'm not a Librarian. What am I?
I am SUPPORT. My job is to make it EASIER and SIMPLER for Librarians to do their job: help patrons find information efficiently. I am the shadow behind the scenes, the grease for the skids, the meat in the loaf? I know what my job is... and I'm shocked to lose co-workers... at the same time, I'm seeing jobs like mine listed with salaries so low I wonder... is it an insult? or an opportunity?
In "real life", I know exactly what I want. I really do. Perhaps for the first time ever. I can see it, touch it, even taste it... but I can't have it. Not yet... the tumblers have not keyed in place. Maybe the will, maybe they won't. I hope to God this is the right combination, because on those occasions that it falls into place... I know... this is what I want. I actually know what it means to be in love.
It's why I know now... that my job, is just a job. It does not define me. When I come home from work now, I don't want to be thinking about my job. I want to be thinking about YOU.
I had a dream awhile ago... and I'll share this now... in which I sat in a nice, comfortable home. It appeared to be a farm house, in the country. It was extremely nice. It was warm, and comfortable inside. I was old, and could feel it in my bones. But so was the woman I recognized. I couldn't tell if we were married, or just living together. I didn't care. I felt immense love for her.
She spoke and signed to me. I heard her voice, but I can't tell if I "heard" her, or I saw her. I understood her, to be sure. She said "They're coming up the drive. Get up, lazy bones!"
So I said "About time. We haven't seen her in awhile."
She tells me: "There she is now, with the babies."
I got up and walked to the door. I opened the door and...
I was angry and pissed off because I wanted to see that. But I was also feeling so good. It was a dream vision of a future, and I knew I was happy, and she was happy too. We were happy because our family was coming.
Is there hope in logic? in dreams? the real thing?