I sometimes wonder when this life in the fast lane will come to an end. What is next? One day i will wake up and know when I have had enough of Europe and the travel and the stress and competition. And then what will I do?
I dream about being an olive farmer in California. Butthat may be more of a dream. I am not sure if that is what is in the cards next. Knowing my life, I have never had anything that i was actually looking for, even though life has indeed taken me to places where the end results were not terrible. Things could improve, and I have a few major regrets in my life, but in general, at least from a career point, I ought not complain.
So I think the more likely scenario is that i will end up in Downer's Grove, Orange County or Redwood City, some non-exotic and flavorless suburb back in America working in a job that perhaps would have less international travel but with a reasonable profile.I will probably keep better hours and travel less.
It is about giving up.
In one of the stories of Jorge Borges titled "The man on the treshold" he attempts to recall a story in second person from North India in Buenos Aires. He says, "what sort of exactness can the names Aritsar and Udh be expected to convey to Buenos Aires?"
Exactly.
What sort of exactness can these realities convey to you? what sort of geographic exactness comes through in my stories as they are spread through my own consciousness as think as butter spread over bread? Would it ever make sense to you why I am the way I am and why it is so difficult to change.
You couldn't possibly know.
As Sartre said, our life is only a long waiting; first waiting for the realization of our ends and especially waiting for ourselves.
I am still waiting for the first. But there is an olive garden somewhere in santa Ynes valley that is waiting for me.
