The Muse is calling. She hates me but can’t abandon me. She is punishing me for not listening. She is making me depressed with the craving to please and appease her and even more depressed by not knowing how to. She is my best friend whom I have yet to know. She is my angel who is right now angry as hell with me. She is exacting punishment by allowing me to have this job, at the same time never letting me forget for one second that I do not belong here – the structured, the red-taped, the politicized, the stereotyped, the road oft’ taken.
The harder I try to do my best at being practical because it’s what puts food on the table, the louder I hear her voice commanding me to write without knowing the end.
She is punishing me by making me commit, almost involuntarily, an unforgivable crime – HR policy violation: using company resources for personal gain. Haha. Notice to explain coming up? How do I explain that I am at the mercy of my unforgiving Muse? Here I am, forcefully banging down on the keyboard, fingers commandeered by Her who’s mad.
My job description is telling me to set up a meeting with a vendor for tomorrow. Finish work instructions for a product. Complete the documents for 2 product launches. Monitor products. Compute gross margins.
She responds –
“I curse you to crave for writing but not be able to do it. I punish you with ideas forever swimming in your head but not being able to string them out coherently. I curse you with the envy you will feel whenever you see your friends on facebook happy because they’re living the lives they’re meant for. I curse you with a job you cannot afford to let go of even if your crazy heart tells you it’s ultimately the right thing to do. I curse you with the guilt you will always feel whenever you try to seek your happiness before that of your family’s. Above all, I curse you with the endless, incurable craving to write for a living while feeling all these. I curse you with the gift and the fear both whispering in your coward ear.
The only way you can pay me back is drop everything and start from the ground up and I know that is scaring the shit out of you. I will forever be shouting inside your head with a defeaning noise that only you can hear. I can’t get rid of you, you can’t get rid of me. I live in you. I am your home. I am you. I am beyond your family. Second only to the God who has given me to you. Until the day, you throw all caution to the wind. Until the day you abandon fear and insecurity and just plunge down to it.”
Here it is, Muse. My peace offering. Along with it a list of things to do in the office today – all undone.Happy now?
- di y. claro, liberated for a few blessed minutes, september 2010