No matter the ungodly hour at which one walks around, there are always harder-working, better people up and about as well.
Often, I'll get on the first train into Grand Centrnal (the 5:22)...or will stay at the Library until 2 or so; and generally when I do, I'll feel good and sorry for myself (Why am I awakeeeeeeeeeeeeee? This suckkkkks. Etc.). But then I'll catch the eye of one of the Doctors walking out of Roosevelt, or some suit-type sitting next to me on the train. And invariably their look will say "what the *hell* is the matter with *you?* You have no reason to have that look on your face--man up."
It's hard, then, not to realize that if one wants to do anything remotely meaningful in the world, one has to sweat every once in awhile--which is a good lesson if there ever was one.
This tends to be helpful in mustering up ambition, and curtailing pity-parties.
Good stuff, all around.
Bunny
10 years ago
This post has also served to give me a kick as well. Thank you! xx
ReplyDelete:) Indeed!!!! It helps perpetuate type-A-strung-outness a bit. (That and really strong coffee.)
ReplyDeleteOn an unrelated note: Your poetry (the little I've been exposed to) is fabulous! Very...Stevie Smith meets Carol Ann Duffy meets Adrienne Rich. Sweet stuff!