I don’t think Jim and I can keep this up much longer. That guy is totally, 100% UNBEARABLE. His way of working and getting things done is so absurd that I can’t help talking back to him, and a lot of the time I just go ahead and do things my way, which means of course as always they don’t meet his “standards”. He actually went and complained about me to management recently, and I got a, granted, very mild warning from the head of HR, but it was still a warning, and I was seriously thinking about giving my two weeks’ notice, when I suddenly got another letter from her in my personal email that was so generous and noble and wise I actually got down on my knees and prayed to the computer :P She called me out for being way too sensitive, she acknowledged all my overblown ideas about responsibility and setting a good example and quality work, and even celebrated them as ‘youthful passion’—not trying to stamp them out, just trying to moderate them and direct them in a way that they could actually see some play and have a real effect. And since then, this past week, I’ve felt so much more grounded and in tune with myself. It’s an amazing thing, peace in your soul, and joy in your Self. Priceless as a Ming vase, Will…and, sadly, just as fragile :-/

We’ve been having the most miserable weather for the last eight days and it’s been so soothing. Because ever since I’ve been here, I haven’t had a single beautiful day that someone hasn’t ended up ruining or spoiling. But now, when it’s rainy and slushy and freezing and wet: ha! I figure, it can’t be any worse indoors than it is outside (or vice-versa)—and that, I can handle. If it’s sunny in the morning and it looks like a nice day, I can never help yelling, “One more heavenly blessing for them to cheat each other out of!” They cheat each other out of everything… health, reputation, happiness, peace of mind! And mostly just from sheer stupidity, lack of understanding, and narrow-mindedness—and, according to them, all with the best of intentions. Sometimes I want to get on my knees and beg them, please, look what you’re doing to yourselves…

These PEOPLE! It’s like this corporate hierarchy has consumed their entire identity… the scheming, and the maneuvering about who’s going to have what position, and oh, who’s looking for “power”—it just never ends! And it’s not like there’s nothing else to do; no, actually, everything’s always running behind here, because people waste so much time over this drama that actually important things are always getting held up. Sigh… even the company ski trip a few weeks ago was all, “who’s going to sit next to the CEO on the ski lift?!?”… it was horrible.

And these morons don’t even understand that, really, it’s not about position at all! People at the top are almost never in charge! CEOs get ‘managed’ by their VPs, VPs get ‘managed’ by their assistants… and then who’s really running things? I feel like if you know how to read people and you can steer them consciously or unconsciously towards carrying out your vision, heck, you’re the boss.

Jim is driving. me. CRAZY. I called it! He must be the most stupidly OCD person I’ve ever met. He lives his whole life like a checklist, fussing around like an old lady—the kind of person who’s never happy with himself, so good luck ever getting him to say you’ve done a good job. The way I work, I just kind of toss things off, and how it comes out is how it comes out; but he sends me literally every report back with like a hundred tracked changes, all “Not bad, but why don’t you give it another pass.” “Maybe you can find a better word here.” “I think you can tighten this bit up a little.” It makes me want to scream. Every semicolon, every dash has to be used exactly technically correctly; and any archaic phrases that strike my fancy inspire in him deathly enmity—if you don’t plunk out your clauses according to the established tune, he thinks it’s gibberish. It’s MURDER, working with someone like that.

The only thing keeping me in one piece is being so close to the Chief Innovation Officer, G____. He told me outright the other day how frustrated he was with how slow and anal Jim is. People are complaining about it all over the office, to him and to the rest of management — but G____ says you’ve got to learn to accept these things. He’s so funny…at the office holiday party last week, he gave me a motivational poster with a picture of a mountain and the text “Get over it!”. I guess that’s all you can do :P

Meanwhile, Ol’ Jimmy can totally tell the CIO likes me more than him, and that bugs him, and he takes every chance he gets to badmouth the CIO to me. I stick up for him, of course, and so everything just gets even worse. Yesterday Jim really set me off because he started bringing me into it: he said the CIO was a solid thinker, a hard worker, and a good writer, but he was totally useless when it came to basic street smarts, just like all those ‘arty-farty’ types. And then he gave me this look, like, you feel that BURN? But it bounced right off me, and I just thought: okay, if that’s how you’re going to think and talk, I now have zero respect for you. I stood up to him, and fought back pretty hard. I said the CIO was someone you had to respect, for his character AND his brilliance. I said I’d never known anyone who was so excited about learning new things and expanding the scope of his knowledge & thought who could still be so practical and get things done in everyday life. — This was all Greek to Mr. Genius here, and I just walked out to save myself the aneurism in case he said something even stupider.

And this is all YOUR FAULT, all of you who talked me into this ball and chain, and sang me such pretty songs about “productivity.” Productivity! A farmer gets more done than I do just by planting his potatoes, driving into town, and selling his produce. Prove me wrong and I’ll happily row myself to pieces for another ten years chained to this accursèd galley.

And the glitzy misery, the boredom oozing from these horrible people all around me! This status-mania they all have! It’s like all they do is scope each other out and do everything they can to get one tiny step ahead of each other. Talk about nasty, vile, and brutish—this is humanity without the fig leaf. There’s this woman here, for instance, who brags to anyone who’ll listen about her raise and how huge her apartment is, to the point where anyone who didn’t know her would think, wow, this person must be incredibly shallow, to be so obsessed by how well off she is; — but it’s even worse than that, because the girl was an INTERN until three months ago, she’s still commuting in from J____y… I mean, come on. I know about “fake it ’til you make it”, but this is just gross.

So… yeah, William dear, every day it gets more and more obvious to me how stupid it is to judge yourself by comparing yourself to others. And since I’ve got so much to deal with just in myself and this storm-tossed heart o’ mine… buh, I’d be happy to let everyone else walk their own path, if they’d let me walk mine in peace.

What really gets to me is this horrible class-consciousness everywhere. I mean, yes, I understand there’s always going to be privilege, and goodness knows how much I benefit from it myself, but—I just wish it wouldn’t get in my way in the exact places I might actually be able to find a little joy, a little shimmer of happiness in this world. The other day, when I was walking in C____ Park, I bumped into this girl B____ I recognized from work, a suuuper charming person, already pretty far up the company ladder, who’s somehow managed to stay alive and real in this rigid, artificial place. We got chatting and really hit it off, and when we split up I asked her for her number. She gave it to me super excitedly, and we starting texting like crazy, and she invited me over to her place—I was SO excited looking forward to meeting up with her! She’s not from the city originally, and she’s staying with her aunt. So… the aunt’s there when I come over, and right off the bat, this lady’s whole vibe rubs me the wrong way. I tried to be very polite to her, and asked her a lot of questions, and in less than half an hour I’d pretty much got the picture (and B____ confirmed this all later): Dear Aged Auntie has nothing going for her, she’s got no real money to speak of, no personality, and nothing to lean on except her Mayflower-status, nothing to cover her but this aristocratic veneer she plasters over herself, and no pleasure in life other than looking down from her rent-controlled apartment over the yuppie heads going by. Apparently she was pretty when she was young and butterflied her life away breaking young men’s hearts; later she settled down with a retired general, which involved a lot of obedient cowering and housekeeping until he finally died; and now, in her — I don’t know about golden years, maybe, like, corrugated cast-iron years, she’s all alone, and no one would ever come over if her niece weren’t so darn cute.

I’m actually starting to feel pretty okay here. The best part is, I always have something to do; and there’s so many people and just so MUCH here, it’s like watching a kaleidoscope :) I’ve been getting to know the Chief Innovation Officer, G____ — I have to say, I look up to this guy more every day, he’s got such a wide-ranging intellect, but he doesn’t act superior about it at all, his whole way of being just glows with this tremendous aliveness to caring and friendship. He’s kind of taken me under his wing ever since the first time I presented a report to him — apparently, as soon as I started talking, he could tell we were on the same wavelength, that he could talk to me in a way he can’t with everyone (!) And I can’t get over how open he’s been with me. There’s nothing in the world that warms your heart like when a really amazing person opens up to you <3

I finished orientation yesterday. Jim’s out sick, so I’ll probably have a couple days now where I can fly under the radar. If he would just stop SNARKING at me, I feel like I could handle all this. I get it, I get it, life’s trying to toughen me up. But — hang in there! Stay upbeat, and you can take anything! …heh. Me, upbeat. LOL. eugh, if I were just a bit more optimistic, I could be the happiest person on earth. I mean, what is this? These other people with their scraps of skill and talent go swaggering around all self-assured and confident, and I’M sitting around doubting my abilities, my gifts?? Dear Lord, when you gave me everything, why didn’t you keep half and leave me a little self-confidence and contentment?!!

It’s cool! It’s cool! it’s going to be okay. Because, I have to say, Will, you were right. Already, getting out and being around people, seeing what they do and how they live, I’m feeling a lot better about myself. It’s so true — the way people are, we’re always comparing ourselves with everything, so whether you feel good or bad depends on what you surround yourself with, and that’s where isolation gets really dangerous. Because your imagination automatically starts filling in the details, especially if Facebook is feeding you these ideas about how everyone else is doing, and you build up this whole image of humanity where you’re at the very bottom, and everyone else looks like they’re way more amazing and they’re doing way better. And that’s totally natural. We all spend a lot of time feeling like we’re missing something, and it’s easy to feel like someone else has exactly what we don’t, and then we project onto them all the things we actually do have, plus this idealized sense of contentment. So we end up with this perfect, happy person who’s a total figment of our imagination :-/

On the other hand, though, if you try to work with your weakness and your inertia and just keep trying to move forward, you’ll find a lot of the time that you can get farther tacking back and forth than other people can sailing straight into the wind — and…that’s a really validating feeling, when you catch up with someone or even pull ahead.

WHAT A NIGHT! WILL! If I got through that, I can get through anything. I’m not going to see her again! GAH I wish I could collapse around your neck, dear friend, and cry and rant to you about all these feelings rushing over me…oh, Will…I’m sitting here, gasping for breath, trying to calm myself down, just keep it together until the morning, and the car service is all set to pick me up at 5 am.

Ahhhh and meanwhile she’s fast asleep and has no idea she’s never going to see me again…I cut myself loose, I did it, I got through that whole two-hour conversation without breaking down and telling them. And God, what a conversation!

Albert had promised me that he and Lotte would come walk with me in the botanic garden right after dinner. I stood on the terrace under the tall chestnut trees and watched the sun set for the last time for me over those lovely valleys and the gentle stream… so many times, I’d stood there with her and looked out at this exact same gorgeous scene, and now — I went up and down the tree-lined avenue I used to love so much; some mysterious emotional pull had drawn me there so many times before I even met Lotte, and we were so happy when we realized, while we were getting to know each other, that we were both such fans of this little spot, which I have to say is one of the most romantic man-made spaces I’ve ever seen.

First off, when you look down through the chestnut trees you’ve got this long view — oh wait, I think I told you all this already, didn’t I? About how high walls of beech trees close around you as you go, and the bushes get thicker and thicker, making it more and more shadowy, until it all ends in an enclosed little clearing where the air practically shivers with solitude… I can still feel how strangely moving it was when I first wandered in there, one sunny afternoon; I could sense, very faintly, how much joy and pain would play out there someday…

I’d been wallowing for about half an hour in the sweet, sad feeling of going away, of saying goodbye, when I heard their footsteps coming across the terrace. I ran over to them and hugged her with a shudder. Just as we started walking, the moon came up over the bushy hills; we talked about all sorts of things, not really paying attention to where we were going, and after a while we realized we were just outside that shadowy clearing. Lotte went in and sat down. Albert sat beside her, so did I; but I was so restless I couldn’t stay sitting; I stood up, stepped in front of her, walked back and forth, sat down again: it was…not a fun place to be in. She pointed out how beautifully the moon was lighting up the whole terrace where the beech trees ended: it was a gorgeous effect, and especially striking because where we were was so completely covered in shadow. We sat there gazing silently, and after a while she began, “Every time I go walking in the moonlight, every time, I always find myself thinking about the people I’ve loved and lost, I always feel this sense of death and future coming over me… We will live again!” she went on, in this gorgeous, emotional tone, “but, Werther, will we find each other again? recognize each other? What do you think? what do you feel?”

“Lotte,” I said, reaching out to her and tearing up, “we’ll see each other again! In this world and the next!” — I couldn’t keep going — Will, did she HAVE to ask me that, right when I was struggling with the idea of leaving??

“And do you think our loved ones who’ve passed on know how we’re doing?” she went on. “Do they feel it when we’re happy? when we think about them with love and affection? Ohhh, I can always feel my mother right behind my shoulder whenever I’m sitting on some quiet evening with her kids, with my kids, and they’re all gathered around me the way they used to sit around her… then I start crying, I miss her so much, and I look up to heaven and I wish she could look down for just a second and see I’m keeping my promise, like I promised her, right before she died: I will be a mother to your children. I get so emotional, I just burst out, ‘Forgive me, Mother, if I’m not everything for them that you were! Ahh! I mean, I’m doing everything I can, I keep them dressed and fed, eugh, and most importantly I keep them loved and cared for. If you could see how much we’ve come together, you dear saint!, you’d praise God and thank Him with all the passion in your heart that He listened when you prayed to Him with your last, bitterest tears to look after your children.’”

THE THINGS SHE SAID! Oh, Will, who could capture what she said? How could these cold keystrokes capture this heavenly efflorescence of the soul?!

Albert interrupted her gently and said, “You shouldn’t let it get to you like this, Lotte! Honey, I know how attached you are to this kind of thinking, but please —”
“Oh, Albert,” she said, “I know you haven’t forgotten those evenings, when we used to sit together at that small round table, when Daddy was away on business, and we’d tucked the kids in to bed…you always had some good book with you and still never got any reading done. — Wasn’t she just the most beautiful soul you ever met? that dear, gentle, cheerful woman, always so on top of everything! God knows the tears I’ve cried, throwing myself into bed at His feet, begging Him, ‘Please, make me just like her!’”

“Lotte!” I burst out, throwing myself at her feet, taking her hand and covering it with tears, “Lotte! You are so touched by the blessings of God, and by your mother’s spirit!”
“I wish you’d met her,” she said, squeezing my hand — “she deserved to meet you.” — I thought I was going to pass out. That’s the most amazing thing anyone’s said about me, ever — and she went on: “And she, of all people, had to pass away in the prime of her life, when her youngest son wasn’t even six months old! She didn’t suffer long; she was peaceful, resigned, the hardest part for her was her kids, the youngest especially. Oh, God — when she was close to the end, and she told me, ‘Bring them up to me,’ and I led them in, the little kids, who were all so confused, and the older ones, who were shattered…the way they stood around the bed, and she raised up her arms and prayed over them, and kissed them one by one and sent them away, and she said to me: ‘Be their mother!’ — I took her hand and swore I would! — ‘That’s a big promise, sweetheart,’ she said, ‘to love like a mother and see like a mother. But I’ve always been able to tell from the gratitude you’ve shown me that you know how hard this is. Give that love and attention to your brothers and sisters, and give your father the respect and loyalty of a wife. You’ll be a comfort to him.’ — She asked for him, but he’d gone out so we wouldn’t see him in such unbearable agony…the man was a wreck.
“Albert, you were in the room. She liked to hear people talk, and she asked for you and called you over, and the way she looked at you and me, so comforted and at peace seeing that we were happy together — that we’d be happy together…”

Albert collapsed around her neck and kissed her and screamed, “We are! We will be!” — Even Albert, Mr. Put-Together, had totally lost it, and I was so far gone I don’t know what I was doing.

“Werther,” she began, “and to think that this woman is gone! God! Sometimes, when I start thinking how you let the things you care about most just get taken away, and no one feels that harder than the kids, who cried for ages about how the men in black took their Mommy away!”

She stood up and I felt suddenly anxious and shaky and I sat there holding her hand. “We should go,” she said, “it’s getting late.” She tried to pull her hand loose and I held on to it harder.
“We’ll see each other again,” I screamed, “we’ll find each other again, no matter what shape we take, we’ll recognize each other. I’m off,” I went on, “I’m off and I’m okay with that, and even so, if I had to say it was for ever, I don’t think I could do it. Goodbye, Lotte! Goodbye, Albert! We’ll see each other again.”
“Um, yeah, tomorrow,” Lotte answered, smiling. That “tomorrow” hit me hard! Augh, she had no idea, as she pulled her hand away from mine — They walked off down the avenue, I stood up, watched them pass through the moonlight and threw myself onto the ground and cried myself out and jumped up and ran over to the terrace and down in the shadows of the tall linden trees just saw her white dress shimmer out the garden gate, I stretched out my arms, and it was gone.

I’ve got to get out of here! Will, thank you so much for helping me commit to this. I’ve been walking around for two weeks already telling myself to get away from her. I’ve got to get out of here. She’s in town again visiting a friend. And Albert — and — I’ve got to get out of here!