So ends a chapter in this story. An “exciting” and “demanding” chapter which began at the beginning of this year, when I accepted a new position at a new company. This eventually resulted in my virtual silence here and elsewhere on the internet, for I was soon too “excited” to participate.
Also, my own life had simply become too boring to comment upon. I wasn’t doing much other than watching TV and sleeping, with the occasional weekend excursions to secondhand shops to break up the routine. Not exactly blogworthy, nor even tweetworthy.
But eventually, I began to feel guilty for neglecting my online presence, and vaguely made suggestions to myself that maybe it would be a good time to tweet something original, post a video, or— for heaven’s sake— at least clean the spam out of the comment queue.
So I joined Instagram. One of the first pictures I posted was this fortune cookie:
Naturally, I expected that the cookie was referring to one of those lame metaphorical treasures. “Young grasshopper, the treasure was within you the entire time. The treasure… of courage!” So since I expected a metaphorical treasure, I assumed I would soon recieve a literal treasure. Perhaps I’d find a $10 bill in a freshly laundered pair of pants, or something.
What I didn’t expect was that expecting to find a literal treasure because I had previously been expecting a metaphorical treasure caused some crazy kind of prophetic recursive double negative paradox.
Not 24 hours later, I became an unemployment statistic. I was handed a pink slip and a box into which to chuck my personal effects.
I had nothing to do then, but slouch home in shock to ponder my situation. Made some coffee and waitied for the arisal of he who does not want to be mentioned directly which occasionally requires me to make awkward vague references instead. This individual then said, “Why are you here… and why do you look so happy?”
Because the cookie was right.
Yes, it sucks that I have to look for a job again, but until I find one, I have the treasure of time. Time to dispense with urgency. Time to smell the coffee, time to gaze reflectively out the window, time to reconnect.