Bell Strings Attached

1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 979-8-3509-0991-3
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 168 Seiten

One man's journey offers a glimpse into the realms of power dynamics, domination, and human sexuality; desires that bind us all but few dare unleash.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Bell, Derek

Leseproben

? 3 ? I slipped the cellphone into my pocket and put the headphones on, then closed the door of my studio apartment behind me and headed out at a brisk pace. I’d made it a habit to walk for an hour at dusk when I can, weather permitting. I started it for the five hundred calories or so I lose each time. The music and the steady rhythm of my steps and breaths, transform me into a contemplative state. I usually return home with some new perspective or insight or idea. At first, the evening chill penetrates my clothes, and I wonder if I might have underdressed, my mind still busy with the day’s events. Then as my body heat builds up, I start detaching from my surroundings, the evening skies dim and I withdraw into the larger issues in my life. Then, finally, I radiate internal heat, the world dissolves away into darkness, and the entire universe converges into the music in the headphones. The mind wanders, thoughts and ideas bubbling up from some internal fountain, as gradually the music itself fades away. Coronavirus was in full swing and there was scant foot traffic in the streets. Some were wearing masks, some were not. I tried to be respectful and keep distance as others passed me by. An Indian gentleman, securely protected by a pristine blue face mask and latex gloves, was talking to his similarly protected neighbor standing across the street, neither making an attempt to come closer—a sign of the times. I turned the corner. There was the open garage door on Dover Street, as usual. These two neighboring houses shared a wall, and one of their garage doors was always open as I walked by, men inside watching sports on a big screen, drinking beer or washing a car. That day, I saw a smoking grill over to the side. I walked past sustaining my fast pace. That time of year was especially nice out. It was no longer uncomfortably warm. The trees were shedding, and the fallen maple leaves seemed to be sparkling red rather indecently as they caught the last rays of sunlight and contrasted with the grassy lawns. Not something I would have noticed as a young man. I wondered if they were objectively so remarkable or if it was me. Soon I came across the strip mall. Many of the shops were closed by State decree due to the virus; some of them would never reopen. The economy is being brought to its knees by a president berated by his opposition for not doing it fast enough. Ayn Rand once compared an earthquake in California to a similar one in Turkey to illustrate how free societies were able to transcend disasters while unfree ones screech to a halt. That was then. Now our country is so dysfunctional, a minor virus can shut it down. Ideas proliferated by Soviet propaganda a half-century ago are now viewed as “middle of the road” in what used to be the free world. And people seem to be clamoring for more of the same; more government control, more socialism. It’s the fall of the empire. All one can do is focus on one’s own life, seek values as best one can, and notice the beauty that is around. I was coming up to the corner gas station and saw a line of cars waiting patiently for the single hydrogen fuel cell refilling pump that was made available. Another one of those exotic energy sources that sprang up in an effort to replace oil. Passing the cars, I noted the patiently resigned faces, all wearing masks inside. These people seem ready to pay a high personal price for this ideology. The gods must be shaking their heads. First, they gave us wood, but we complained it didn’t compact enough energy. So they gave us coal, and we complained it was too smoky. So they gave us oil, and we complained it pollutes. So they gave us nuclear power, and we rejected it outright. I’m not sure the gods could ever give us an energy source that would satisfy Man. At first, they said an ice age was coming and would destroy our modern way of living. It was said to be scientific. Then they said the whales were disappearing, which was an ominous sign, then acid rain would destroy us, then nuclear power, then the ozone layer was disappearing and we were all going to fry, then a short-lived Y2K end of the world crisis leading up to the year 2000, then a fear of global warming, which morphed into the fear of climate change in general, and now coronavirus, which actually has brought modern life to a momentary halt. Funny how a virus should require the government to force us into anti-industrial behaviors. The excuses change, but the message is always the same—an attack on modern life. As you get older you start seeing these patterns. Life shifts gears when you get to fifty. An interesting transition takes place. Up to that point life is primarily about learning and investing in the future. But at that age, it gradually becomes more about using the knowledge and execution. Many years ago, when I was much younger, I took a course in statistics. This was before the advent of computers and electronic books. We were still using calculation tables. I remember noting that the statistical z-tables started with a sample size of thirty. That fact stuck with me over the years. If you have a very large population, and you want to learn something about it with any kind of confidence, your sample size needs to be at least thirty. Well, I guess age fifty is when one has about thirty years of adulthood and is getting the hang of it. Life is no longer a boundless adventure. A night on the town no longer holds the promise of limitless possibilities. I’d now seen life and what it has to offer, I had a sense of the range of possibilities and knew what of it I liked and what I didn’t. In my late forties, I started seeing friends and family pass away and was getting a sense of my own mortality. This game of life does not go on forever. I was at the top of my game professionally and had the resources, health, and energy to implement change. It was “me” time, prime time; time to take stock and decide what I wanted to do with the time I had left. Some people call it a “midlife crisis,” but it didn’t feel like a crisis, no more so than hitting puberty. It felt more like a “midlife transition.” Yes, that’s more apt. I really didn’t expect to experience anything different when I hit that age. I’ve had an interesting life, even if it wasn’t always easy, but I found myself in a groove, job, family, I was coasting along. I don’t know, maybe it was a self-fulfilling prophesy. Maybe the knowledge that a “midlife crisis” existed sparked it in me. But whatever it was, in my fiftieth year, I started looking at my life and asking myself if that was it for me, if that’s what I wanted. Now that I’ve seen life, what did I want more of? And the answer was loud and clear. No. I needed a purpose to my life, and I wanted passion. I didn’t want to coast along, I wanted to explore and experience and pursue values. I realized my body had been trying to signal that to me for quite some time. My life had grown dull. I was on automatic, my wife did not attract me anymore, and all her girlfriends looked like “aunties.” Maybe it was I who had changed, but once I saw it, there was no way I was going to slug it out until death. I had a talk with my wife. As soon as I moved out of the house, all my friends disappeared like morning fog. Not long after, I lost my position at Acorn Medical, too. It was not a huge surprise, I could see the writing on the wall, and my prospects looked good, but it was change, and thus at the age of fifty, I shed my life like a snake does its skin. Now I had a clean slate, my search for meaning began in earnest. What was the purpose of my life? What was I put here to do? What did I want? I had done a fantastic job in that last position. I wasn’t sure the people I worked with completely understood the value I brought or how much of the success of the company was attributed to my work, but that didn’t worry me much. I was part of a winning team and success breeds success. They must have understood it to some degree because they were sure paying me enough. I started having discussions about my next steps even before leaving, and fully expected a follow-up position to turn up in a matter of days. But that didn’t happen. I began reaching out to people I knew and reconnecting. I had some potentially good meetings but ultimately nothing materialized. I began to attend conferences and tap into my wider network. At that level, good positions are usually obtained through personal contacts. The person hiring you needs to trust your competence. But soon I started sending out résumés in response to online job postings; selectively at first but then more aggressively. I realized that résumés these days were screened by automated algorithms, so I worked to improve mine so it was flagged by those systems. Still the results were dismal. I revised my résumé again and again, each time positioning myself differently but no luck. When I did get an interview, I was told that they had found someone who is “a better fit for the team dynamics,” which these days is code for “young” or “non-white” or “a woman.” A couple of times, I actually did get a position only to find myself working with a manager too young and inexperienced to take advice. I was proven right, but that didn’t help me at all, and I found myself out of a job again. I gradually came to realize men of my age were not being hired. They were not...