The Back Room

With respect to Socrates, my unexamined life is not worth living. The front room is the face we show everyone but we hide our true self in the back room.

Wednesdays are the closest opportunity to a routine I have.  I know at what facility I will be, approximately when I will be arriving home, planning what dinner we will have, going to the British pie shop around the corner to pick up spanakopita and chana masala as an accompaniment to salad, then off to the gym for an hour, a good 15 minute walk up and back, then shower, shave and laundry, followed by picking my wife up from her Zumba class, fixing dinner, eating dinner, and then relaxing as we prepare for the latter half of the week.

This routine places us in the best mood, more than any other weekday.

And that’s good because I dread Thursday.  The day I go to Jersey City.  Jersey City of the crazy drivers, traffic-choked streets, and absence of parking spaces.  My facility is so far into Jersey City it takes almost 30 minutes to get through.

The work at the facility is not bad, it really is the location that makes me feel so uneasy.  When I return home Thursday night it feels like I have been away for two days.  Friday is a relief.

During the day I thought about what I wanted this blog to be.  I like the idea of writing essays though I don’t know if they should be about the same subject.

For example, I had an idea for a piece about my fascination with homosexuality.  There are only seeds at this point, though if given the time I could make the idea grow.  This idea came out of the roles I see myself in and what they mean.  Writer, Social worker, Therapist, Son, Husband, Brother… and especially anglo-saxon male.  What are my responsibilities in each role and do I fulfill these responsibilities?

Race matters have been taking up my mind space since elementary school.  I should have a clear idea about this issue but I don’t.  I do not feel comfortable discussing it out loud because, like much of my words, I am dissatisfied with their outcome.

The New Yorker recently ran a cartoon that had a man lying in bed with his wife.  He said, “If I could take back ninety percent of the things I say, then I think people would know the real me.”

That’s me.  That’s why this blog is important.  When I release the words I could say onto paper I can clarify my position without being self-conscious about how pretentious, snobbish and prickish I sound.

I can write without judgment.

For now.

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This entry was posted on September 3, 2014 by in Social Work, Thoughts and tagged , , , .
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