The End of Pretending

The universe has permitted me to have a good taste of the simplicity I humbly craved for. I’m sloshing it in my mouth and chewing it slowly. It’s delicious. I am fully devoted to caring for my wife, son and daughter. I run almost three times a week, read two books a month, spend my afternoons driving my son to and from school while reading, listening to music or writing in coffee shops during the interval between. I rarely drink. I do the house chores and I also do part-time work, and the work is home-based. The job, if I can call it that, is stress-free, has minimal responsibility and a flexible schedule. I’m even good at it and derive some satisfaction. For those of us who do not seek fame or fortune, this is it.

We are debt-free, the bills are paid for, but we also have to be really financially conscious. It’s difficult to be charming without money but easy enough not to spend on non-essentials. There is such a joy in spending so little, but having so much of life to actually squander.  As I always pray, keep me at my humblest and therefore wisest.  The wisdom there is a practical one: nothing lasts. The financials are good for the next three quarters, and if my new part-time work does not sustain us I will have to go back to pretending big time. 

So be it. I hope I still know how to pretend when I wake up from this dream.

Fuck the day when I return to my former company and tell the executives, “Your prodigal son returns.”

Most people will probably look down on what I chose to do, or would think that I threw my career away along with the decent salary. Of course I worry that very little money is coming in. I worry that what I am doing now is a kind of morbid self-indulgence. I suppose will never be truly fear of worry.

Previously, when my energies were sapped by work, all I could think of was mentally drafting my resignation letter.  I pulled that trigger, resigned, and finally felt more alive than I’ve ever been. These days, I’m so happy I’m mentally drafting my obituary. But having lived, I know better.

Tomorrow, I’ll actually write that short story I’ve been mentally drafting.