Dead Cats Float

Howdy. I think the International Committee of the Red Cross set a new speed record for international mail with my rejection letter. My application package made the trip to Geneva, Switzerland and back to St. Louis in roughly eight days, thus releasing hydrocyanide gas into the box containing the humanitarian cat.

I got the news when I was in Kansas City helping my best friend, Wes, and his new wife, Jess, move into their new house. I couldn't be happier for them because I know that's what they've been working toward: the ultimate symbol of stability, comfort, and security. It's the American Dream, man! They've arrived! I have to say though, that all the "30 YEARS of payments" and "We're never moving again!" talk made my stomach flip!

It's so strange that even after my vagabondery and my newfound respect for having a home base, I still had that primal gut reaction. My instinct tells me that, under those circumstances, one necessarily limits their opportunity to experience new things and facilitates falling into a rut. Where did I get the perception that one moment a person makes that commitment and the next moment he wakes up elderly, wondering where life got off to and why he didn't experience all he'd wanted to? Why has it been my basic assumption that any security or stability is an illusion and that to embrace it is self delusion?

Three weeks ago, I flew to Philadelphia to interview for a sales position with a world renowned aviation safety consulting firm. In the week prior to the interview I had done everything I could think of to prepare. I studied the company website, re-read industry association websites, and wrote out and practiced answers to possible interview questions. I'd already had two phone interviews, but I figured this interview would go into still greater depth in order to make a final decision.

It wasn't more than two minutes after shaking hands with the CEO when he said, "Well, I wouldn't have brought you all the way out here if I wasn't pretty interested in bringing you on board, so if you're still interested, let's talk about money!" For some reason, that was the one question I hadn't prepared for! It hadn't even occurred to me that I might be offered the position on the spot, but we came to an agreement on salary and benefits and agreed that I'd start in two weeks.

I was really glad I'd gone to Kansas City earlier in the summer and sorted through all my stuff and moved everything that was worth keeping from mom's house to St. Louis. Having accomplished that, I was able to pack all of my earthly belongings into three rubbermaid tubs, three cardboard boxes, two duffel bags, a laptop bag, and a guitar case.

Since all that was more or less taken care of, I was able to spend the next two weeks searching Craigslist for a place to sleep in the Philadelphia area, selling my 20 year old car and my 4 month old laptop on eBay, and researching public transportation between Philadelphia and Palmyra, New Jersey, where my new office is located. The transportation was much more difficult than I had anticipated. I ended up finding a place with roommates in North East Philly, about five miles from the office. To get there using public transportation would take at least an hour and a half utilizing three different transportation systems (SEPTA, PATCO, and NJ Transit). Luckily, I've been able to car pool most of the time with roommates and coworkers. I'm also planning on moving over to Palmyra as soon as possible so I'll be able to walk to work.

I got to Philly the Thursday before I started my new job. Leeanne, one of my new roommates met me at the airport and then we met up with Sean, her boyfriend and my other housemate and went out for a very nice barbecue dinner. Yep. No cheese steaks to get in the Philly state of mind. We went straight to Famous Dave's BBQ (which also has a location in Kansas City).

I spent the rest of the weekend buying respectable clothes (since I've been living in flip flops, shorts, and silly T-shirts for the last 8 months), and taking wrong SEPTA busses into shady parts of town late at night. At one point, I actually decided it was a better bet to accept a ride from strangers than to continue occupying a particular street corner/bus stop. The couple had actually given me directions a little earlier as they waited for their Chinese takeout. Apparently, after thinking about where they had sent me, they decided they didn't want my fate on their collective conscience.

Friday marked the end of the first forty-hour work week I've ever spent in an office, and it really wasn't all that bad. I think I'm really going to enjoy learning everything about this business and then teaching others about what we do. It's been great having the mental stimulation and human interaction again.

I just re-read "The Unbearable Lightness of Being," by Milan Kundera. In the opening, he writes hypothetically about a concept attributed to Nietzsche called "eternal return" by which everything we do in our lives recurs ad infinitum.

"Putting it negatively, the myth of eternal return states that a life which disappears once and for all, which does not return is like a shadow, without weight, dead in advance, and whether it was horrible, beautiful, or sublime, its horror, sublimity, and beauty mean nothing...

If every second of our lives recurs an infinite number of times, we are nailed to eternity as Jesus Christ was nailed to the cross. It is a terrifying prospect. In the world of eternal return the weight of unbearable responsibility lies heavy on every move we make. That is why Nietzsche called the idea of eternal return the heaviest of burdens...

The heaviest of burdens crushes us, we sink beneath it, it pins us to the ground. But in the love poetry of every age, the woman longs to be weighed down by the man's body. The heaviest of burdens is therefore simultaneously an image of life's most intense fulfillment. The heavier the burden, the closer our lives come to the earth, the more real and truthful they become.

Conversely, the absolute absence of a burden causes man to be lighter than air, to soar into the heights, take leave of the earth and his earthly being, and become only half real, his movements as free as they are insignificant..."

I realized that Wes and Jess's recent marriage and home acquisition were heavy because from my perspective, our lives are our eternity, and committing yourself to doing the same thing every day is like creating a miniature eternal return. I also realized that I'd always assumed lightness to be the positive and heaviness the negative. I guess I've realized that's not necessarily the truth. I've always been "as free as I am insignificant," and I've realized that my friends are just embracing the positive aspects of heaviness and that there's nothing illusory or delusional about doing that.

I still don't think I could totally embrace heaviness, though, so I think I'm going to shoot for "buoyancy."