What A Difference A Day Makes

My last post found me in a foul mood. My version of a midlife crisis took a powerful hold of me, but things are better now. It took listening to a lot of Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, and John Prine, but I finally found my peace.

The frustration I shared is really just based in the thought that I am meant for better things than what I am doing. Call it arrested development or a crippled career, but with each punch of the clock I know that I am letting myself down and not pursuing my potential. Not to compare myself to a superhero (although it is fun), but I really identified with Bruce Willis' character in Unbreakable. He played the role of a man destined to rid the world of evil with superhuman strength. The problem was that he had no idea that he had such powers within himself. And so he found himself somewhere in his late 30s, working as a security guard and unhappy and unfulfilled while having no idea why. He was here to be doing greater things but hadn't figured what.

And that's where I am. Listening to Dylan sing "Maggie's Farm," I type this while at my happiest. Music in the background, my fingers to the keys, I call myself a writer and seek to be a person who is of value to many. But for 40+ hours a week, I belong to the greedy and the malcontents. They come to town to open the beers and close the deals. And they emote loudly with vicious disdain while I work to cater to their wants and needs. Business is business, I understand that. But I am looking for the compassion in the world. I can always count on finding it between midnight and 2 a.m. while listening to good, good music.

I thank Dylan and his fellow bringers of good songs for getting me through. I also thank my wife for the hand that she put on my shoulder when I was feeling so low yesterday. She's my "everything's gonna be alright." She's my "so pretty that you're lost in the stars." She gets me through. Now I just have to find the man I'm supposed to be. I bet I'm closer than I think.