killing days

because of the current job that i have (and have given notice of my intent to resign) i find myself simply killing days. i don't like this existence...where all i am looking forward to is the end of the day. a couple of days ago my neighbor knocked on the door. he was working on his car and needed to go to the auto parts store.

we ended up chasing the necessary part all the way to a napa store off of seminary in fort worth. this gave us time to converse. both of us are adopted, but that was not the focus of the conversation. my neighbor has a new-born son (6 months old) and as all parents know (well most, i suppose) having a child gives one a new perspective on life. as we drove down the old fort worth streets, taking the long way down beach drive, which is somewhat akin to going through a time warp and arriving in approximately 1972, we pondered, somewhat befittingly, what makes life speed up as we age.

my neighbor's assertion is that as children, each day is somewhat different: new adventures, new traumas, new joys, new friends. as we age, those daily surprises are all but eliminated, we become almost programmed. he further asserted that his goal, or at least his desire, was to craft an existence that was more like his former life; his childhood. not that he wanted to be a child, he simply wanted each day to be meaningful.

while i believe the answer to times' rapidity is probably somewhat more complex (i am sure he would acknowledge that as well) his assertion and desire is right in sync with mine. i want a life where each day is, while not always joyful or inspiring, at least, meaningful. and i do not mean in a purely existential or artistic or "whatever" sense. i'd like the freedom, almost exclusively found in childhood (at least in this country) to craft my day: whether it is working outside, starting a company, finding an obscure autopart, traveling to see family and friends: that is the life i want. i realize that may be polyanic, but i'm actually going to attempt to grasp that life: i have resigned my current job which affords a nice salary but nothing in the way of joy or meaning. i am rolling the dice. i appreciate the love of my wife for letting me do this...i go back to Donald Hall's poem, Affirmation, which has been circling through my mind these last few days:

    "it is fitting and delicious to lose everything"

we have already lost everything. we own nothing. we borrow. we return. permanently. from that perspective, what is the greater risk: being unemployed, or spending almost each and every day hoping it will just end?