Reading Lukacs has not been helping my sense of anguish and despair at Conference Services. But! It does sometimes allow me to read, which is quite ironic, to me.
For a long time (and this stands for the entirety of my relatively mentally mature life) I have felt so hopeless in the eyes of ‘reality.’ And please, let me tell you how wonderful it is to put language to those inconsistencies and everyday miseries; to understand their ghost-like presence. To spot them, question them, and gradually (dare I say it) fight against them.
In the office, the day has from the very start, a hole cut out of it. That time must be spent at work, on the clock, doing this and doing that. And so, I began to feel that I was counting down those holes in the days, wanting them to compress faster and faster, until they were over, gone… and finally I could live.
But then, I cannot live after that. Because it is so much more tiring. There is a pregnant woman in the housing office. I think she is due next month. And she is counting keys, placing work orders. Is this what an eight-months pregnant woman wants to do? Even in general, is this something anyone would want to do… five, ten, twenty years…?
And then I stop myself and say “how dare you put down the profession of another! If it weren’t for her, the whole.. THING would cease to exist.”
That’s it. The THING.
…[T]he hierarchic dependence of the works, the clerk, the technical assistant in an academic institute and the civil soldier has a comparable basis: namely that the tools, supplies and economic survival are in the hands, in the one case, of the entrepreneur and, in the other case, of the political master.
Mm. Maybe I’m not so arogant, after all.
Signing off.
b
Filed under: Ecstacy, Getting With the TYMZ, Misc, Just For Fun, reading, Rutgers