The West
They don’t call it Death Valley for nuthin’
And coyotes don’t make a good pet
But livin’ out here with the griz and the deer
you pretty much take what you get
And the Rockies have shoulders like granite
They’re big and they make their own rules
So take what you need but you better pay heed
‘Cause the mountain don’t tolerate fools
And the wind is the moan of the prairie
That haunts and bedevils the plains
The soul stealin’ kind that can fray a man’s mind
Till only his whimper remains
You can stand in the canyon’s cathedral
Where water and sky never rest
And you know in your bones that the meek, on their own
Will never inherit the West
It’s wild and it’s wide and it’s lonesome
Where the dream of first blood still survives
And it beckons to those who can bid adios
To the comfort of 8 to 5 lives
So come all you brave caballeros
Cinch up and reach down inside
Till you feel the heat, then take a deep seat
‘Cause the West, boys, she ain’t broke to ride
-Baxter Black
I haven't really felt like writing lately. I just really haven't seen the point. I feel so bad for anybody who's chosen to stick with my blog and keep up til now. I can see from that little "stats"that not many people read this thing anymore, and even fewer read these long and dramatic type posts. But whatevs. As if I care.
I started out so cheerful and optimistic; and I think my blog's taken a turn for disillusionment in the past two years, wouldn't you say??
I like Qatar, I do. I've had a heck of a two years here, and I can't really believe that if I somehow manage to stick it out for a little while longer I may just end up with the MA I set out for. Not that I have any idea what it'll do for me ultimately. The job market in Doha for academia doesn't favor those without a PhD (or those who aren't Qatari), and looking for a lower-ranking job in the height of summer when my salary is up is even less likely. Academia shuts down in the summer, for the most part, and it's safe to say that it's highly unlikely anybody will be hiring research assistants in Doha in July.
So I'm stuck. After planning and plotting for years to get me here, my two years time is about to elapse, and I'm no closer to satiating the restlessness that brought me here.
When before, sitting in my parent's basement or staring at the stars on a moonlit Colorado night, I would dream of bigger places - of making it out here in the desert. I couldn't believe that such a place really existed, and that I could ever get myself there. Whereas some people ended up in Doha on "luck alone", I had to work my ass off. Coming to Doha for my MA was never a given. I gambled on coming here, and my risks seem to have mostly paid off.
Except that now, sitting on my little balcony by the sea, and burning some Omani frankincense - all I can think of is Colorado, and the wide open spaces of the US southwest. Irony at its best.
Maybe it's Chief Niwot's Curse, maybe its because I was born with a gypsy soul under the shadow of Mount Sanitas - but this sense of urgency, of the pressing need to travel and understand the world has never left me. I thought that coming to Doha and bettering myself academically would end up broadening my mind, and increasing my understanding of the world, of human nature, of this strange thing we call life. It has only complicated all of these things. I once had a college professor that told me "you know you'll understand when everything becomes more complicated". Couldn't be closer to the truth.
I've seen this side of the world, I've lived it, I've felt its pulse. I've seen the people that live here, and I've experienced the King's thumb. While Doha has brought me slightly closer to being anybody worth listening to (in terms of The Man's credentials), it has made me ever more confused in terms of everything else. My path forward is clear, I can go on for a PhD - so that I can end up with a transferrable skill that will (so the story goes) earn me some sort of living, exerting most forcefully the muscle of my brain, not my arm, nor my fist.
This sort of life is best for people who come from some sort of platform, who have known what it means to have solid footing in their lives. I've spent most of my conscious life clamoring through gravel pits and sand, always chasing after a dream that seemed to come easily to others. I'm not going to sit here and whine that I haven't had it good, because we all know I have. I've never really gone hungry, and I've never been worried about having a roof over my head (except due to my own choosing). I've had two lovely parents that have loved each other for over 30 years, and who have loved me more than I can bare to say.
Though I've also had my fair share of strife, and I was unfortunate enough to be raised by ethical folk who taught me to have a global outlook on life, to always see more than myself - to always do what was right. My trouble started when I saw that the right thing wasn't always what everyone else had been trained to do. People, and that includes the law, often find it so much easier to skirt around what is "right", instead opting for what is easiest, what is the most profitable. For a while, this contradiction flung me into the world between right and wrong - some people call it "punk". Others call it "rebellious teenager-hood", and still others just call it "lunacy". Unable to cope with the world as I knew it should be, and the world as I saw it, I became somebody who forced the sheep (the everyday people) to look up from the grass, to come out of their coma and see the world in a different way for a change. I wanted them to feel the disconnect and the discontent that I did, by whatever means possible.
On some level I'll always stay a punk, but my "rebellious teenager-hood" had to end some time. Eventually, and with the help of a few well-meaning rehabilitation centers, I could focus this disquieted energy elsewhere, and it manifested in my intellect. I've always thought the best use for this was academics, since I'd mostly always excelled at school (my best subject was routinely English class; literature, writing, grammar, the works).
But it turns out that academia can't hold back this energy anymore, and truth be told I don't know what will.
If somebody told me tomorrow that I could go anywhere and do anything for the next year, without hesitation I would chose to be sitting behind the wheel of my Dad's Chevy Suburban, my chihuahua in the passenger's seat, and a sleeping bag in the bag - somewhere between Leadville and Buena Vista on highway 24. Oh, and enough gas money to last me about 3000 miles.
The rambler in me is getting uppity, and this country with its exit permits and kafala system is getting right up my nose.
So now I'm back to square one. No prospects for a job forthcoming, and no real desire to force myself into something that will leave me stranded for the next year to come. While tempting, the idea of going back to Colorado to earn pennies by my brow is something that I "know" I shouldn't do. "What about your career? The PhD?" I'll hear over and over. But then again, why would I ever need more than the sun overhead and the open road on the tip of my right toe?
Nothing to be done, nothing to be said. It's the sad reality of billions before me: to give up the passion inside of you, and to exchange it for worldly success.
I just don't know if I'm ready to box my passion up just yet.
Peace & love always <3
