In the Grind

Disclaimer:

Hereforth is a collection of inconsequential philosophical ramblings. This blog serves to alleviate my woes from lack of  social interaction and to assist me on my journey to linguistic expressiveness.

Without further ado:

     I woke up this morning after three days of 12+-hour shifts at the hospital to the sweet sound of Cascada's Evacuate the Dance Floor on my bedside iPod alarm.  My routine ensued. Grabbed my laptop from next to my oh-so-luxurious sofa-bed, checked my e-mail, and in my ongoing attempt to enhance my vocabulary, read yesterday's Merriam-Webster Word of the Day: "Sisyphean."  Immediately, I recall my second-semester, senior year philosophy class and our brief discussion on Camus' The Myth of Sisyphus. (I'm giddy with delight at the thought of philosophizing - probably the closest thing to passion I possess - but we'll save that for another day.)

     As I was saying.  Merriam-Webster's definition of "Sisyphean:" (adj.)

of, relating to, or suggestive of the labors of Sisyphus; specifically : requiring continual and often ineffective effort.  That handy dictionary, M-W, goes on in the e-mail to remind readers of the story of Sisphyus: "In Greek mythology, Sisyphus was a king who annoyed the gods with his trickery. As a consequence, he was condemned for eternity to roll a huge rock up a long, steep hill in the underworld, only to watch it roll back down."  This functions to give one some insight into the meaning of the daily word.  

     Well, seeing as I've recently entered the working world of adult life, I've been thinking a lot about how my life feels like that of Sisyphus, rolling that rock up, letting it fall down, just to pick the damn thing up again.  I reminisce on Camus and his discussion about whether or not Sisyphus can be happy in his indefinite, tedious task.  Camus says that Sisyphus possesses his stony life, which gives it value.  I've been thinking a lot about this lately as I've gotten into the routine of getting up, going to work, coming home, going to bed, lather, rinse, repeat.  Especially because I work in a setting where patient outcomes are not always favorable, I feel the weight of the rock as I push it, just to descend that hill and repeat it all over again.

    Now, I can appreciate the Zen-ness of repetition but eventually, it's going to get old really quickly.  Although I'm technically more liberated than I have been throughout my entire life because social expectations have all but evaded me, I feel more trapped than ever before.  Somehow, the fervor of academia excited me and drove me to aspire to excellence.  It's easy to lose that drive.  I feel as though I've hit a plateau and my life is one flat surface from now on.  I don't know that I can own this tedium and reap some form of joy from it.  But maybe that's the only thing to do.  Maybe my constant search for happiness continues to turn up dry because some things in life only bring transient happiness.  Maybe the best part of the tedium is itself.

    Working in a place where I see babies die without even the prospect of the opportunity to roll that rock has given me some perspective.  As long as the rock is still there, I can still roll it.  Maybe that's enough.  Maybe possessing that rock is better than never even getting to have one in the first place.  I've never been much of a theist.  I'm not really a believer in an afterlife, and only lately have I contended that there is some purpose to my existence, although I'll remain eternally oblivious about its identity.  

     Now, I make my leave, back down the hill to prepare for another day's weighty incline, and perhaps this time with a smile on my face.  Until next time.

- Midnight Enchantress