The End of the Apocalypse August 20, 2019

So, I’ve been having night dreams which start out really cool and with folks I love. Then, somewhere in the middle, they get all freaky, and I am on the run, hiding from some insidious Fahrenheit 451 Tracker Hound or War of the Worlds alien.
During the day, I am struggling to learn a new job in a place of chaos and turmoil – but I work with some really cool people.
So… the connection I am considering is this: I really enjoy post-Apocalypse movies – you know, The Postman, Mad Max, The Book of Eli, etc. I’ve always wanted to be one of those survivors that made the future bearable, despite all the death and destruction. So, when I considered how frustrating last week was, and how uncertain the future is, I began to review my survivor complex.
Maybe the Apocalypse isn’t going to be an international nuclear event. Maybe it’s here. Now. Where we are. People are dying of thirst as they try to cross the desert from a nightmare into a fantasy.
People getting killed when they’re out buying school supplies.
People dying due to lack of nutritious food, clean water.
Even the dogs are dying.
Birds can’t find their ways home.
Fish can’t spawn because the water is too warm.
Earthquakes. Landslides. Wildfire. The place isn’t really habitable after all.
And we already have people living in space. This boggles my mind, since all the Science Fiction space travel movies include creepy gigantic species that slither up and suck your brains out. Yuk.
But what if this is the end of all things? What if my bitterness at fellow employees is the last emotion they – or I – will feel? Is this what I want to leave as my legacy? Is this the memory I want burned into the fabric of our society?
Unraveling the mess I was hired into could be where I excel, where I demonstrate all those values I say I value…
I’d better take stock of myself before I go to work tomorrow. If this is the Apocalypse, and I want to be the hero, I’d better get my empathy out and quit being an egocentric -itch.
This is going to be hard. I’m so good at self-righteous indignation.