2006-05-04

99 broken iron nails

According to the sagas, the first Indians that the Vikings met [at their Vinland colony in North America] were a group of nine, of whom they killed eight, while the ninth fled. That was not a promising start to establishing friendship. Not surprisingly, the Indians came back in a fleet of small boats, shot arrows at the Norse, and killed their leader, Erik the Red's son Thorvald. Pulling the arrow out of his intestines, the dying Thorvald is said to have lamented, "This is a rich country we have found; there is plenty of fat around my belly. We've found a land of fine resources, though we'll hardly enjoy much of them."

~ Jared Diamond, Collapse

I am back to quoting from Collapse because there is nothing pressing I want to write about. However, the quote was not random, and does, by analogy, relate something about which I am currently experiencing.

I have too many jobs. I'm too busy. It's a bit ridiculous, really. I have, like, 5 jobs or something. When someone asks what they all are, I usually forget one of them. (This obviously does not bode well for the person that hired me for that particular endeavour.)

But it's great to be busy. I love that I'm increasing my tolerance for work; I love that I'm thinking about these jobs and how they are shaping my talents and life and opening doors to areas I might never have explored; I love turning on this laptop and always finding something that needs to be done.

However, just as Thorvald lay dying there, I feel like though I've found a land of plenty, I might just be missing the point (unlike Thorvald, who felt it in his belly), whatever it might be.

I'm worried I will look back at this period of employment abundance and wonder what the hell I was thinking, just saying yes to everything all the time, that I will have to abandon the colony and all they will find is 99 broken iron nails and this dysfunctional saga to know that I was ever there at all.

But I am being dramatic. This busy season will fall away after my sister's wedding in June, at which time my hours spent tutoring will slumber through the summer. And the earnings season is almost over, meaning no more irascibly boring proofing and fact checking of publicly traded companies' financial information reportage. And at that time I will be able to turn my full attention to the summer, to Frisbee and bbqs on the beach, to the fifty or so 20-35 year olds I will be taking on a tour of the Rockies every other weekend, and to my tomato plants (which are strong now, having recovered from an initial bout of transplant shock, they are heliotropic once more), which will tower above me once more; skyward, they will reach, transforming sunlight, invisible gases and nutrients and water, into cool, sharp, hydrolific fruit, which I will turn into my favourite summertime treat: a toasted tomato and cheese sandwich sprinkled with pepper and a glass of really cold milk.

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