Tuesday, October 21, 2025
I was such a dull boy. All work. know people that cannot uncouple from work. They have turned crispy and have become unhealthy versions of a once-vibrant essence.
The hardness of work dulls the sheen of liveliness. One of my friend’s health was at a breaking point. Another wouldn’t see his 70th birthday, as informed by his doctor. Why? Work. We work ourselves into an insipid stupor, decaying into dust.
I recognized my own skeleton. I found no joy in “going to work.” The drudgery started to take its toll. The bones in my fingers and those of my colleagues and students were starting to show. Work and pursuit was bringing out the corpse under the once-vibrant flesh.
The church was no better. Heaviness was caked on the countenance of sagging burdens sitting in pews. Beautiful decor adorned a building that congregants “worried about.” Consternation abounded about “messing up.” It was too precious. Too rigid. Too dead.
Solemnity ruins. Heaviness kills. Worry poisons. Work dulls the sheen right out, like a scouring pad. Responsibility burdens. Jack’s associates, students, and environment were walking corpses. Fear snuffs the air out of the room. Choked by work.
But dull Jack had another chance. Jack learned not to give Jack Sh+t. He learned not to give into that tempting caricature of himself – the one who thought everything was heavy and permanent.
He decided to let it live. Let it be messy, airy, unorganized. Let it die. Let it be funny, all these “serious” beings taking themselves to be Real. He decided to secretly goof off. He learned Jack was just a boy, and Jack Sh+t was in his own diaper. And all of Jack’s associates were boys who had pooped themselves too, forgetting. Big babies not even realizing how silly it all is. Jack doesn’t work anymore. He’s learned to play along.