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A Broken Bottle

Being severely underemployed and currently not doing a whole hell of a lot to change that has given me a couple of things: 
1) A generally pessimistic and melancholic disposition
2) A lot of time to think about my generally pessimistic and melancholic disposition

Now, I know that going out and getting some stupid job would probably help with the fact that for about 14 hours a day, I feel useless. But, unfortunately, the last job I had was very seriously, with no hint of my usual melodramatic flair, abusive. I've been with an emotionally abusive partner, the effects of which still seep into my relationships to this day and I have to say that my emotionally abusive work place was just as damaging. Not that I need to explain myself to you, but I'm taking some time to repair my mangled innards. I'm writing a play. I'm trying to write a play. I'm baking. I'm playing pokemon. What I'm saying is I'm doing some reflection. Looking inwardly and trying desperately to sort out the bottom of the jewelry box necklace tangle that is my life.

For some reason today, my focus settled on sea glass. Sea glass as a concept. Sea glass as a metaphor. I love sea glass. I lined my pockets with tiny colourful pieces from the Dalmatian coast like they were Werther's Originals and I was that old lady that lives in your building. And I'm sure when I got home, I put it somewhere safe. (read: Who the hell knows?)

If you've never seen sea glass, here's a picture:


If you don't know what sea glass is, let me walk you through it's life cycle. Sea glass begins as regular glass- usually a bottle or a plate. It can even come from shipwrecks- maybe a window or a porthole of some long forgotten pirate ship down at the bottom of Davy Jones' locker. But somewhere in it's lifetime, this fragile thing with a purpose lost its usefulness. It broke. The bottle used to hold things and then it was emptied and forgotten, half buried in the sand beside the dying bonfire. Maybe it was a dessert dish from a fancy picnic set, holding a delicious slice of cake when it was dropped against a particularly angry rock and it's shards were swallowed up by the ocean. Whatever happened to this bottle or window or dish, it's different now. No longer whole, just pieces of what it used to be. 

Even if someone found all the parts and glued it back together it could never be the same again. People wouldn't put their food on a dish that might cut them. I mean, really, would you feel safe in bowels of a ship with a porthole that was held together by superglue? But the beautiful thing about sea glass is that it even though it can't go back to being what it once was, that's fine. That is totally, absolutely fine. Instead of going back to a past that no longer exists, the great ocean takes these seemingly useless fragments and holds them in her mouth. She rocks them persistently, beats them against her banks for years and years and years until all the jagged edges are rounded out. I'm sure the process isn't always pleasant. If glass could be dizzy and confused and in pain, then I'm sure it would be. Then when it's ready, she returns them to the land for a new life as a rare and colourful miracle

So, I guess what I'm saying is... hopefully, when all of this is over... I'll be a beautiful piece of sea glass and not embedded in someone's foot.

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