Sunday, April 28, 2013

The Impossible Dream

"To dream the impossible dream
To fight the unbeatable foe
To bear with unbearable sorrow
To run where the brave dare not go

To right the unrightable wrong
To love pure and chaste from afar
To try when your arms are too weary
To reach the unreachable star

This is my quest
To follow that star
No matter how hopeless
No matter how far
To fight for the right
Without question or pause
To be willing to march into Hell
For a heavenly cause

And I know if I'll only be true
To this glorious quest
That my heart will lie peaceful and calm
When I'm laid to my rest

And the world will be better for this
That one man, scorned and covered with scars
Still strove with his last ounce of courage
To reach the unreachable star"

I have been exceptionally moody lately.  Normal for me is to be somewhat moody with a slightly depressive tendency but with the strong capability of hiding this from all except those who know me too well.  For whatever reason lately I've just been moody.  For instance, yesterday I was grumpy and was taking sarcastic potshots at anyone with whom I interacted.  Today, I've been mostly fatalistic but with a streak of idealism hence I've been randomly bursting into the above song (only when I'm alone, mind you!)  

That song ranks pretty high on my favorites list.  I think it has partly been on my mind because I managed to partially solidify why I'm so driven to do rescue stuff with the animals.  Although I cannot explain the wiring, I have always wanted to "make things better" ranging from the simple clean up of things to the complex save the world.  My compromise illustrates and would seem to support the idea, expressed by different people in slightly differing ways, that a cynic is a frustrated idealist.  I've realized that changing the world to make it better (even my small slice of it) is impossible.  I can, however, change the world entirely for some unwanted, unloved, and uncared for animals thus making their world better.  At least there is some sense of accomplishment in this rather than the perpetual frustration associated with changing the whole big world and making no progress.  Or, for that matter, of trying to make tiny improvements in the workplace only to fail miserably.  The animals at least appreciate my efforts and I experience a sense of satisfaction.  It's rewarding; unlike most everything else in life which leads to an unrelated comment.  Once again, I've had it hammered in my head how seldom actual hard work pays off.  You bust your butt and are lucky to get a mere thanks while someone else who is prettier, more charming, knows the right someone, or has the money gets promoted or chosen or whatever i.e. gets the reward.

The effect this has on me as a somewhat boss is that I strive to be rigidly fair and not reward the undeserving but those who work hardest.  Not that this does any good since I'm not and never have been in a position to have the final say and no one listens to my input...and there's only two, maybe three, people who listen to what I say at all.

At the moment, though, I'm dreaming the impossible dream and gearing up for battle with life. The depressive reality is that I'm probably fighting windmills...

1 comment:

Jono said...

And when you get my age they call you a curmudgeon.