A Small Confession...

A Small Confession From A Recovering Pessimist...

There are many who would read this, that know me. And there are some who would read it, that know of me. But to the ones who will appreciate this, they know one core thing about me: the vast majority of my short life, I have been a negative person. I mean, really negative. The kind of negative that almost makes a person not want to be around himself. And the truth of the matter is that, for most of my life, I have felt justified for feeling this way. There is something vaguely intoxicating about anger. The greater the perceived offense, the greater the desire for retaliation. The more you think about the wrongs committed against you, the more righteous you feel in the actions you take afterward. It's a cycle that continues to feed itself. Like, a dark and twisted form of ouroboros. And to a degree, this is how I felt. But my negativity was born from a much sadder place than that. It began in my teenage years, after the death of someone very close to me. And my survivor's guilt mixed with the guilt of having missed an opportunity to see them one last time, and suddenly, the snowball was rolling downhill. Not long afterwards, I began high school. And the mix of this black cloud of guilt along with puberty, bouts of depression, and being painfully unsuccessful with girls, led to a ground work being laid, that even now, years later, I am admittedly trying to undo. But I digress.

This cycle continued throughout my short stint in college, and up until about a year or so ago. Where I just naturally began to realize how extremely exhausting it was to be me. And I immediately began to feel sympathy for my friends and close family members for having to deal with me and my constant bitching and pouting, and for lack of a better term, "grandmarshalling" a decade-plus-long pity party. Now, looking back so much of my youth was so very wasted. And I truly have no one to blame but myself. But very recently, something happened to me. Back in June of this year, I was let go from my job. For no real justifiable reason. Not absolving myself of anything, I can get too comfortable at times. And even a little lazy. But I honestly, did nothing worth being let go over. I was being made a scapegoat for something beyond my control. Despite never missing a day of work and always doing what was asked of me. I helped anyone who I was physically able to help. But it was all for naught. And for awhile, I felt myself getting back into those familiar patterns of bitterness. Not because of being let go, either. I mean, that sucked, but it's not the end of the world. It was just for the disrespect I felt I had been shown. So I held some resentment to many people I used to work with. Not all, but many. Because I felt like, many of the people I considered friends there, kind of turned their back on me. For a place where news spread like wildfire, my phone and my facebook page were uncharacteristically silent. Only my boys Jay and Robert bothered to see what happened. Hell, when I was waiting on my paperwork in the office, no one would look me in the eye as they passed me in the hallway.

The only people that spoke to me or said anything kind to me in the office that were two people: Harry H. and Daryl S. And I will never, ever forget that. My "manager", she tried to comfort me, but that only infuriated me further, because I felt it was an act that was disingenuous, much like her and her previous interactions with me. But my point in all of this, is while I was just sitting here at my computer, watching short documentaries and dealing with a bit of insomnia... (I fell asleep too early, and now I'm wide awake) something hit me like a bolt of lightening. Getting let go from the place was the best thing that ever happened to me. It was a place, that despite a laid back atmosphere, changes you as a person. You find yourself gossiping to an extent. You find yourself never really wanting to come to work. You notice people around you who will complain about their co-workers for hours, and then turn around and smile in their face. You notice people being resentful of others who are rumored to have received a small increase in their grossly low pay. People whisper about certain people who have blatantly cozied up to their supervisor.  You have people who will call their supervisor and report something you are doing, even though it's none of their business nor anything you are doing wrong. And I could go on and on and on. But I won't.

It was a fun and creative industry to be involved in, but in the end, it's not worth it. If you have to shovel shit and act like they are rosebuds, it's not worth it. If you work a full week's hours, and still find yourself with no money, despite being paid weekly, it's not worth it. If you have to compromise who you are as a person, just to "survive" the cut-throat nature of the environment, it's just not worth it. And the bottom line here is that while I greatly liked a handful of the people I worked with, I didn't like the person I had to be to work there. Being underpaid and under-appreciated isn't the way to go, I'll admit, but having to be underhanded isn't any way to live. So since I don't believe in a deity, I will thank those who brought about the circumstances for me being let go. Your actions, and my years of inaction, are now forcing me to become a better person. One worthy of the rest of this life, that I will be grateful to see. So challenge accepted.

From here on out, I will aim to burn with life. But I will never be so arrogant, as to assume that I gave myself the spark. For he who burns twice as bright, only burns for half as long. And half-full is no longer good enough for me. I hope to be good enough for this world.

Un fuerte.

- Clyde Hurlston.