The Hunter: Everything’s Gonna Be Orion

This Hunter doesn't want to Save the Planet

This Hunter doesn’t want to Save the Planet

I’m back at Starbucks.  Haven’t done a lick of people-watching.  Hmm, a lick.  That would be a cool thing to expand upon, a licking eye, if I were to, say, eat some fungus or paper or sugar cubes or et cetera.  However, the only hallucination I currently experience is the one everyone else calls reality.  Why come I’m not taking in the quirks of my fellow coffee drinkers?  Aha!  Therein lies the rub.  You could say the same about my blog, if you were so inclined.

“What’s the deal with Rob’s blog?

“Oh, you mean Dabutcha’s Blog?”

“I do.”

“Well, therein lies the Rob.”

Although, most of my stories are true; which, I’ll ne’er tell.

Ran some errands today.  Because that’s what you run.  And that’s how errands are handled.  I was going to end up here anyway; might as well have gotten something done beforehand.  [Quick pet peeve:  It’s “should have” not “should of.”  You can write “should’ve” which is a contracted form of the correct term.  But it just ain’t “of” nothing.  Work on that, please.]  With backpack, or what we called bookbag, I came in, dropped my belongings on the couch, and went to get my drank.  Triple Venti Cappuccino.  Bitches.

Once seated, out came the Astronomy homework.  This week’s topic: our solar system.  Decent, no?  For you who are my friends on Facebook, you might have (not might of) seen last week that I “bombed” the test.  I got a 70.  Me and math are still duking it out.  And word problems.  And essays.  And matching.  It’s a tough course.  Kind of.  But not for everyone.  Some got 90s, 91s, etc.  Not me.  And it’s ok.  My GPA could take a hit.  It’ll be what it’ll be.  Still, the class is fun and interesting and I’m glad to be learning.  My brain has had to flip sides, since all that artsy-fartsy junk (more fartsy than artsy, thanks to a high-fiber diet) engaged my Right Brain and math and science stimulate my Wrong, er, Left Brain.  Not saying I can’t be analytical (ask an ex) but I’m accustomed to being all chill and laid back and WhateverMan.  If I were a superhero, that’d be me.

“Look!  It’s the Incredibly Indifferent WhateverMan!

“He’s able to leap the tallest buildings!

“Or he could walk around them!

“Sometimes he goes in the front door and comes out a side door!

“Other times, he goes to the wrong building altogether!

“Help us, WhateverMan!”

“I guess I could.  Not much else going on right Now.”

I think I did well with my homework.  But then I got to thinking, ‘School’s great and all, but I need  job.’  Not for lack of trying, it’s been a challenge to get calls back.  Even more so an interview.  Still, no matter how stressful all of this may be, I won’t stop fighting.  I am the Hunter, out to slay a paycheck!  Just as Orion stands ever at the ready, with his trusty dog by his side, though he proudly raises his prey, he continues to hunt without rest. Upon his shoulders, I stand and declare for all the Universe to hear:

My trusty dog’s name is Resume’!

My sword is my pen!

My shield is my word!

My belt holds up my pants!

Ideally, I would find a job that pays me to do exactly what I’m doing now.  Create something from nothing, let my brain do the walking and the talking.  Write.  That was the plan.  Still is, but now I’ve gotta be practical.  Work is work and pay is pay.  I’ve loosened the noose a little.  I am considering other employment options.  Teaching.  Selling.  Social services.  And so on…

A few weeks ago, the observatory at school hosted Community Night.  Three students, myself included, showed up to volunteer our help with the telescopes and explanations.  It was about twenty degrees out.  I forgot my glove.  Sweet.  Few people showed up.  At first.  A little later, more came in.  I got a chance to again view the Orion Nebula.  We had viewed a week or so prior during class.  It’s impressive.  Just below his belt, Orion’s sword hangs.  (I know, I know.)  Near one of the fainter stars of the constellation, a multidimensional, blue cloud reaches into space.  Hardly visible to the naked eye, stars are being born.  The Universe is roughly 12.5 billion years old.  These new stars in the Orion nebula are about 1 million years old.  Think about that.  Earth is 4.5 billion years old.  One million is a drop in the bucket.  Infancy.

With a fairly simple telescope, little ol’ Robert Gardner, saw this.  Rob Fucking Gardner loved it, was in awe, and felt in his place, tiny and aware.  Lucky.  Good shit.  As a kid, I started looking up.  The stars were so inviting, begged to be seen.  Perhaps this was strange.  Playing crate ball on Indian Queen Lane, I was usually the first out in a game of horse or rough house or whatever.  I had perpetual “next.”  So I’d look at the stars.  I knew where Orion was.  The dippers.  That was pretty much it, but I was hooked.  Something was out there and I was pondering the possibilities.  Yeah, I was a weird kid.  Little has changed, I suppose.  I’m still looking up, at both heavenly and not-so-much heavenly objects.  Always looking up.  Seeing the Orion Nebula brought it all back and more.

At Community Night, we set up three telescopes on the deck.  They pointed at the Moon—waxing gibbous, Jupiter and his four Galilean moons, and the Pleiades–a cluster of stars that make up the tail of Taurus, the Bull.  Despite frozen fingers, I manned my telescope, sharply set on Jupiter, king of the gods.  Everything is always moving, therefore the telescope must also.  Fun and fascinating, the night also earned me some extra credit, which I clearly need, and some brownie points.  Word.

Through my research, I discovered that Aldebaran, the bloodshot-red eye of Taurus, is “glaring menacingly at the hunter Orion.”  Figures.  Here I am, talking of being the jobless Orion, and I’m getting the stinkeye from a bull.

**Funny enough, I think I had an ancestor from the early-1900s who was also called “The Jobless O’Ryan.”  The Irish get no respect!  At least St. Patrick’s Day is near and the world can reinforce the stereotype of an amazing people as raving, drunken lunatics.

***My mom was a Taurus.  Perhaps it is the watchful eye of my mother, from the heavens, peering down to ensure I travel well through this life.  Next Community Night, I’ll again focus the telescope on Taurus, but this time I’m looking for the cluster that makes up a finger wagging at me from 4.3×10^3 light years away.

This job hunt has reached critical mass.  Over the past several weeks, I even took to non- and not-for-profit entities.  The Philadelphia Zoo said I don’t have what they’re looking for in a shit shoveler.  If I could prove it’s because of my arm, I’d have a case!  In order to work at the Arty Museum, it helps to know more about art than, say, how often the stinky old guy goes to the East Norriton Starbucks.  Franklin Institute, Academy of Natural Sciences, even Sesame fucking Place—they all require specialized knowledge.  I also found that, if I were to want an internship at the Mutter Museum, I could call Marcy Engleman at 215-563-3737.   They’re always looking for help, especially from students at Penn, Drexel, and Temple.  I’ve put my transfer plans on hold for the time being.  Something about having unemployment actually run out on me has sparked a bit of urgency within me.

Part of me wants to just.  Keep.  Writing.  No matter what, food will find my table, gas will find my tank, and soap will find my ass.  I won’t be on the street.  Nearing 39, I question whether I’m being immature and foolish, chasing something so vague and uncertain as a dream.

Part of me thinks maybe I should chase the rabbit—much like my celestial hero—and commit to the hunt.  Leave no stone unturned, no bush unshaken, no application unfollowedup.  Fierce determination combined with a major sense of purpose, I believe, is one of the secrets to thinking and growing rich.  Wonder how much coin O-Dog had back at the village; how many pairs of sandals his wife had; if his kids went to private cave.  Persistence is key, no?

There’s always a lesson to be learned.  I just have to remain humble enough to accept what I don’t know.  And keep my eyes always looking up.  As long as I do these, I can rest easy—like three little birds upon the doorstep to the heavens—knowing that every little t’ing is gonna be Orion…

Thanks for stopping by.  As always,

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