You Got No Say In It

So there I am, standing in what I’ll call a pre-undergraduate motivation-collapse coffee line, waiting for my afternoon hit. In a month or so, The Slackening begins, and I can get back to just walking up to the barista and getting my afternoon hit of my last-great-crutch.

Behind me are two first-year girls bitterly criticising a mutual male friend of theirs for his decision to quit University and do something he thinks he’d enjoy more. From what I can piece together, it’s to do with serving people in the 3rd-world in some capacity. A noble calling for those who hear that tune calling their name on the wind.

And now that I know what I’m looking for in these conversations, I recognise that I’m tuning into an absolutely gluttonous gorging of fear-programming around lack of time and money. These girls are true believers, beating out a relentless dirge of doom whose predicate is a foolish young man’s desire to do something he might enjoy more than plugging into the career ladder-climb ASAP.

Now.. this wouldn’t be much of a story except for the fact that I wasn’t really listening. I’d slipped comfortably into unplugging from my thoughts to give my own story-teller a rest from a typical litany of programming around a lack of time.

Coasting on the sound of their voices and the background radio trying to drown out a hundred such conversations around it, the subconscious finally smirked its familiar “got a pattern I’m enjoying” smirk at me and jogged me out of timelessness to hand me the recognition that I was hearing this song:

So there I am… ordering my latest mug of mud-coloured crutch; re-acquainting myself with a song I loved (but didn’t really grok) as a child.

I’m thoroughly enjoying the little mental gender-bending real-time filter tweaking required to fully align the song’s message with the judgement coming off these two girls, working it into a pretty little visualisation of balanced scales.

Good luck ladies. When your time comes to accept that dancing to the tune of another’s fear only pays dividends in a currency of sorrow, we might be ready for an interesting conversation. Sounds like your friend is already in a place I’d appreciate a deeper understanding of.


4 responses to “You Got No Say In It

  1. julielawrence437

    You rock ๐Ÿ™‚


  2. friend of the koalas

    “dancing to the tune of anotherโ€™s fear only pays dividends in a currency of sorrow” … friend of the koalas is still wondering about this one. he know’s what you mean, but still… dancing. dancing?


    • If people can seriously support this notion that simulated epileptic fits are actually ‘dancing’, it really is too late to be worried about me throwing one more rock through a window of the ‘dancing’ neighbourhood. ๐Ÿ˜‰

      If you like, invent a word for that uniquely jerky movement of a maroinette’s puppet and substitute. ๐Ÿ™‚

      Let me know what you come up with. I’ll find some way to weave it into our next conversation.

      Also, be warned that I hail from ‘The Humpty Dumpty School for Plasticity of Semantics’ where head-trips are free, legal and as mandatory as tea parties.


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