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The book of life would be a lot easier to read if the lightbulbs around me weren't so god-damned dim
i'm trying to figure out who i am and what i should do with
myself. an ontological quandary that is always presented to
the nascent sentient being. at this moment i hope that i
will learn who i am, what i have to offer, and what i can
hope to become. sadly enough we are all like the
contestants on the price is right; always looking towards
the audience to our lives for the most relevant and
pertinent answers, solely because we are too afraid to
answer them for ourselves. i am trying this escapist
endeavor and am failing miserably. no one with whom i share
a contact with has even remotely helped me in deciding who i
am and who i will come to be. at work i go over
registrations and declarations, in fact, i read a title
opinion today which caught my eye.
i'm not sure if you are familiar with title insurance, but
essentially they grant a liability coverage for a given
property (say your lot that you have built your house upon),
contingent on some exceptions. well i scan and skim these
about a 100 a day making sure that the legal description of
the tracts fall well within the regulatory premises of the
plats upon which they are recorded. however, today i
noticed one anomaly. you see all title contracts hold
certain exceptions to ones title insurance, namely those
contingencies that will potentially "undervalue" one's lot,
i.e. easements (which is a fancy way of saying that someone
has the right to use your land, usually the general public
or utility companys). well on this one title contract an
exception stated was (and i quote),
"if said tract of land is marketed, sold, or conveyed upon
any deed to a person(s) of african-american, hispanic, or
if the property is sold to an african american, hispanic, or
asian, or HAS BEEN ATTAINED FROM an african american,
hispanic, or asian, the title insurance finds this a
negligent threat due to which it wouldn't insure the property.
at this point my desk lamp started to fade. it flickered
and it no longer wanted to stay on long enough for me to
find the passage that indicated that the aforementioned
statement and any mentioned hereunder was only a sad joke.
the light just blew out on me, so i had to move on to cvs.
nothing but dim 30 watt bulbs posing for spatial
enlightenment, i know i'm heading down a course of a
downward spiral as i meander through the sad aisles of a
forlorn passage of forgotten promises, sitting and
symbolizing from the sanctity of their shelves. no chance.
i was in the subway lately with people yelling at each other
in the ecstaticly erroneous accusations that fly between
people heated in their quest for self-righteousness as the
lights of the subway just shut down. i sit there in a hot
sweat. the tear drop of exhaustion running down my forehead
as my stomach rumbles in disagreement, nothing but
pitch-blackness as a voice assures me that i will see light
soon enough. the man next to me reciting some prayer,
muttering as sweat flies form his lips as he clasps onto his
rosemary beads as if they were last part of his life that
hadn't left him.
i sit there sweating in dark as i realize that i can't read
and i can't leave my life through some sort of sad sinking
into literature. i sat there staring out of my window as
the metro stood still and the hot air sat upon my shoulders
as a thousand pounds of hierarchial mediocrity heaped upon
the unsuspecting and idealistic entrepeneur.
my life is just a quest of successful cvs shopping runs and
peaceful rides that don't take me in and out of stations on
which i sit in secluded shakes with college girls unnerved
by the vermin sliding through the cracks of our society.
i'm trying to keep my light bright.