I have read mini biographies of men and women who
disappeared and were never found. Among these were Antoine de Saint- Exupery
and Ambrose Bierce. Before they went off to the unknown place of legends they
had become cynical and hardened toward their fellow man.
They both seemed to feel betrayed by aging and suffer bouts
of moodiness. I believe John Steinbeck suffered similar symptoms.
I would hate to go out this way- becoming misanthropic and
full of despair, believing that my best days were behind me and the ones left
to me were meaningless.
I often wonder what I will do with my life.
In two weeks I will begin law school but my boss and mentor
has already given me a dispiriting talk about becoming a legal professional.
New Zealand is not a place that one goes to become world
famous. You can be from New Zealand and be world famous but you need to go
somewhere else for this to happen.
The country is filled with remarkable individuals who wander
into their garages for a spell and wander out again with fully functioning
speed bikes or replica aircraft.
They have a plethora of humble athletes and talented
singers.
I have no desire to join their ranks but I do want to make the
world a better place somehow and I am frustrated by my lack of progress in that
respect.
This weekend we went to a lake surrounded by the Southern
Alps and some very dry looking valleys.
The place we stayed was a camp were countless young people have come to fish, swim and build character.
When I was younger my mother would send me to a Christian
camp for a week during the summer. In addition to archery, horse riding and
canoeing we were treated to a heavy helping of Jesus praising whether we felt
particularly inspired to it or not.
If your prayers weren’t up to snuff or you were having
personal doubts you would often be ratted out by the commie bastard other
campers and be forced to confess and repent.
The lack of pressure to exalt a higher power twice daily at this
place almost made me want to praise Jesus for the freedom of not having to
praise Jesus but that would have been an odd conversation so I was merely
internally grateful.
I found that I slept a lot in the cabin where we stayed and
was constantly wrangling Alex into some sort of holding area due to a fear that
he would wander off to the lake and come to harm.
Nick accused me of being anti-social and to prove him wrong
I marched down to the lakeside, said hello to everyone assembled there and then
kayaked around the perimeter of the lake. By myself.
The last time we went out on the water with Nick’s mate
James, I tried to water ski behind his jet ski and had the rope jerked out of
my hands time and time again.
Nothing makes you feel the distance of your youth quite like
having something that was once easy rendered impossible by an organized revolt
between your hands, arms and fingers.
We took my fishing rod and even bought some lures in a great
show of intent but no fishing took place.
The lake was stocked with brown trout just begging to be
snagged but we ignored the call.
I returned home this afternoon to find my garden patch full
of sheep. They are doing a bit of grounds maintenance for me and will hopefully
render the area easier to work with.
I’ve spent the evening reading about vanished heroes and
worrying that all my dreams will come to nothing.
I’m going to switch over to some lighter texts now like “Four
Years From Forty: You Can Still Be Someone” or “Dick and Jane Go to the Seaside
and Avoid an Existential Crisis.”
