Tom Ramcigam (magicmarmot) wrote,
Tom Ramcigam
magicmarmot

  • Music:
What is it with 4:22 AM?

I wake up.

Devastated, destroyed, yet somehow reborn.

I hate when good books die.

It is a puzzlement, this devastation. A frustrating window into my lack of control, and a lesson that things are sometimes beyond my capabilities.
A week away from work. A week of working on the house. A week of being forced to think on my feet, to do on my feet, to provide solutions to problems that are beyond the scope of what I imagined.
Loss of control. Or the loss of the illusion of control. Delays, perhaps not inevitable, but humbling in their intensity. And the realization that the limits are artificial, self imposed.

A lesson then.

The analogy between the house and myself needing repair is not lost to me.

I have been asked by several friends why I bother fixing up the house. Why I don't just sell it as-is and put the effort into building a new house.

It's a good question.

Given the right time and tools, I believe that there really isn't anything I can't do. And I believe that this house is structurally sound (other than the whole front porch foundation thing).
But more than that, it's a challenge of responsibility.
I understand the mechanics. I'm in a mode where I have to take control of my life, and take responsibility for what I have made (or allowed to) come into my life.

And apparently I have to also learn that control is an entirely relative thing.

Hubris is a bitch.
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