I Have No Status – Part One
I’m a failure, by anybody’s standards, and I just can’t seem to care. Well, that’s not wholly true. I just moved to a new city and have been meeting a lot of new people and there is always that moment when you ask each other, ‘so what do you do?’ and, as I answer, I can almost visibly see people threading me into their patch-work world view and if there was a discard button they would be subtly leaning up against something in order to push it while I wasn’t looking. Ah, well, now you see that that’s really my paranoia. Most people aren’t really like that … most people won’t pigeonhole immediately, right? I certainly don’t.
And yet, fundamentally I don’t care.
I don’t have a home. I don’t have a ‘significant’ other or any other at all … except maybe that voice in my head that calls me my secret name and sometimes tells me ‘you’re an idiot’ and other times ‘come on, be calm, you can do this.’ I don’t have success. Google me and there’s no story of overcoming adversity to be the top at my game, no, just ……nothing … a visible void. I don’t have a car. I don’t have any children. I don’t have a career and I don’t have an underground cave full of treasure. Nor do I have a fairy Godmother (not quite sure how she got in here).
I have no status.
And yet, strangely, I’m ok. In fact, I’m better than ok. I’m fucking happy. AND GRATEFUL.
I get to go out and meet strangers. I get to choose who I talk to, who I don’t. Where I walk, whether I walk, how I walk. I get to amble through parks, talk to birds, feel the sun, smile at passersby.
I get to feel my mind reaching out, encompassing the whole world, feeling pain and joy and love. I get to embrace the world with my mind.
I get to remember, to cherish and to learn.
And I get to sit here and write these words and share them with anyone at all. Just because the world involves impossibilities, realizes intricacies and anomalies and weaves a pure chaos that doesn’t discriminate.