We derive our vitality from our store of madness.
— E.M. Cioran, THE TEMPTATION TO EXIST
Madness, to let go of a job that pays the bills, and to do what? March blindly toward an uncertain and distant future life that may or may not materialize. But the alternative is worse, and I just can’t do it anymore—living by rote, risking nothing, accomplishing nothing of any importance outside of the office, having nothing more to be exalted about than being able to pay the bills on time. Boring myself to tears... and I don’t even know why I insisted on enduring it for so long. But that’s all ancient history now—that chapter has ended and I’m turning a new page. Not that it’s going to be a bed of roses (I know from experience that struggling to make ends meet is not a fun ride), but at least I’m out of that rut and surviving on my wits again. I want what that Switchfoot song says… when I wake in the morning, I wanna blow into pieces. I want more than just OK, more than just OK... Now I may be worth less, but I’m not just OK, I’m great.