On Homesickness. - The second time I went to New England was after a prolonged time in the deep south. My tenure at Louisiana State University had come to a close (relativel...
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
If Sisyphus had worked with Fred Flintstone, he might have been happy. To work at a quarry, to have a chance to smash that f%#@ing boulder, or at least to hear the quitting bell (or bird) and know he could put his toil down, if only for an evening.
But maybe that's what Sisyphus knows... that every morning, when the alarm goes off, that the boulder sits next to our bed, anew, waiting for us. That our evenings, our weekends, our vacations are really only our time walking down the hill to fetch our rock and start rolling again.
I like to think of Sisyphus sweating, with his back behind the boulder, his shoulders splitting, thinking, "Dude, I gotta work on my resume..."
Funny though, if Fred and the boulder-roller worked together and had a brontosaurus smash the rock, reduce it to pebbles, free Sisyphus from his torment--would he miss it?
Would he stand there, relieved but perplexed, wondering, "Now what?"