BTRIPP (btripp) wrote,

Heavy Sigh ...

Well, needless to say, nothing good's happening. I went down for a career counselling thing yesterday and was pretty much told "you're fucked" ... it looks like I'm probably going to have to go back to re-train for something in order to make 1/3 of what I used to make in P.R. ... since it seems that the nearly 9 years I've been out of P.R. is enough to prevent me from being able to be hired in the industry again (and, of course, since I had been a Senior V.P., nobody is willing to look at hiring me in at a mid-level position).

The thing that really KILLS me with all these various career counsellors is that NONE of them have any cogent suggestions for me! Every one of them that I meet with pretty much clucks and says "gee, that's tough" and then pretty much washes their hands of me. Obviously, I'm in a bad, bad, bad situation ... with a "power" resume which is too much "neither fish nor fowl" to fit in the little boxes of the people doing the hiring ... I get "round filed" constantly for being "too this" or "too that", with NOBODY willing to give me a shot at re-inventing myself in their context.

The only "interesting" thing that's happened over the past day or some is that some lady's computer has got one of those damn viruses that sends itself out over and over again ... I don't know HOW my Unicity e-mail address got into her address book (as neither she nor I recall having any contact previously), but her computer is sending me mail about every 15 minutes (I've had nearly 50 messages so far, all with different subject lines and saying "Hi! How are you? ... I send you this file in order to have your advice ... See you later. Thanks" with a file attached that is the subject line with or .doc.pif attached). So at least I'm getting mail today ... whoopie!

Anyway, wrote this in various chunks yesterday (hence the numbered sections) ... of course, to get to the "motherlode" of my poems you just need to visit ...

                    SO CAVERNOUS THE ABYSS

                    dim cycles
                    start anew
                    echoed traces
                    of time wasted
                    in half-remembered pasts
                    regurgitated here
                    in slightly altered form
                    as if to salve our panic
                    dark days
                    the inner
                    and outer worlds
                    conspiring now
                    to crush all hope
                    to leave us dreamless
                    to obliterate
                    the essence of ourselves
                    all systems decay
                    all functions
                    on which we rely
                    fall to chaos
                    we amass this loss
                    within our anguish,
                    a stain these tears
                    won't wash away
                    in this cell
                    so like those dungeons,
                    pent within
                    collapsing space,
                    we know the dread
                    of these encounters,
                    a fear which smothers
                    all prayers unsaid
                    so down,
                    so dire,
                    so dismal, this,
                    so empty are these futures
                    except for agony;
                    so worthless are our days,
                    so useless our prospects,
                    so cavernous the abyss

                             - Brendan Tripp

                    Copyright © 2001 by Brendan Tripp

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