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Emptiness
Monday, September 19th, 2005 by joelI am empty inside. Lest you think I’m being loathsome and metaphorical, allow me to share with you an experience I had recently. I sat in my somewhat chaotic room in my relatively empty underground apartment. For some reason, I don’t remember specifically what it may have been, I turned and looked over my shoulder. The view it afforded me was one of my helter-skelter bedding, my raucous pile of dirty clothing overflowing my clothes basket, and, interestingly enough, a mosquito attached fairly firmly to my naked shoulder. I plucked at this small creature and it came off me, quite dead and, may I add, fairly shriveled for an animal of its appetites. It is this most compelling evidence I offer you that I am, very literally, empty inside.
It is difficult to say exactly why I live like this. I have been living for about three weeks without buying new anything for the house, eking by on what food I was able to beg, borrow, or steal from my acquaintances. I was quite convinced that I was entirely broke, and cringed whenever I had to gas my vehicle. And yet, whenever my family offers to help me in any way I begrudge them the offers.
Partially it is due to the fact that, at least some of them, have the habit of offering me all the things they don’t actually want. These unsacrificial offerings place my ownership one step above the wastebasket, which, if taken, is a rather offensive viewpoint. Moreover, I am practically drowning in glorified trash, items I own which serve no purpose but to clutter my already disorganized life, but which I have not summoned the courage to throw away. It feels like they are just adding to my problem.
I checked my bank account today. I was stunned to discover I had well over a thousand dollars in my checking account. I actually had to check it several times to make sure I was seeing things right. I think I pulled the ‘Bank Error In Your Favor’ card. I am immensely glad it wasn’t the ‘Go Directly to Jail, Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200.’
But I am here to testify that money does not bring happiness. As ‘Hello Dolly’ was so clever to observe, you can take a cash register to bed with you. It ain’t soft or warm, but at least it dings.
