In a recent spur of transition, in worrying myself to paralysis over finding something meaningful with which to pay the rent, I tried to sell insurance. So with no sales background I took a commissioned-based position selling life insurance, which has been my worst idea since scaling down the icy switchbacks of the Grand Canyon by myself and getting lost for a day (and telling no one where I was going). Fun but dumb in hindsight. My fling with sales was a prime example of an antisocial loner trying to swindle people over with charm, charisma, and exemplary phone etiquette, and I did all my sales calling naked and drunk to do so.
I like to try new things, but selling is not my game to play. It takes a special set of genes, and I could not sell a fire extinguisher in a burning building. I am better at talking people out of things. In fact, I think my ideal career would be a military sniper. Just hide in a bush for several days. Be very quiet and still. Wait. Stare at things. Forget what I'm supposed to be doing and play with little twigs and grass blades and weird bugs. Look for shapes in the clouds and take long naps. Before long even I won't know I'm there.
I felt like I had to break up with my job so I could be with the one of my dreams, the one that offers a lot less money but a lot more heart (or is at least cute). What that is, I don’t know. I'm on a pinball trajectory with no place, no purpose, and a general sense of dissociation. I'm in a terrible rut in which I act like a millennial. I curl up under my covers and scroll through ironic memes; I send them to my friends so that they worry about me. I haven't even photographed any new graffiti. I might have to get a cat just so I have someone to make me get up in the morning.
Catfish in the Mud
I went to Namibia and took a tour of Sossusvlei, where it hasn't rained in 6 years. The river is completely dried up. My guide told me that even in the six-year drought, catfish are hibernating deep down in the mud and will surface again when the rains come back and restore life to the desert. I didn't believe him at first, like I didn't believe in the mysterious fairy circles on the dunes. But now the idea of catfish in the mud has become a metaphor for the things trapped on the inside and down below that wait for the rains to give them some vigor and life. Catfish in the Mud is a pretty standard millennial blog in which I say mostly nothing in about 300 words.