On

We all understand, at least on a subsidence level, that there is a place for things to be.

A mustache belongs on a face and, thus you shave it off. A fingernail belongs on a finger, thus you cut it off. Clothes belong on bodies, thus you take them off.

If an athlete is not doing as well as he should be, he is said to be having an off day. When an archer misses his target, something he should hit, he is off his mark. When a person has gone insane he is said to be a little off.

Things are generally supposed to exist so when something is eradicated, it is killed off. Furthermore, we are supposed to be working and in school so days we are not are days off. Ovens are supposed to cook and irons are supposed to iron so when they are not, they are considered off.

But every essence my being says that I’m not supposed to be in a cube staring at a screen. I’m not supposed to be wasting my existence doing nothing pretending its something so I can earn money, which is essentially nothing, but allows me to buy stuff that is also essentially nothing. I’m not supposed to be working, I’m not supposed to be in DC and I’m not even supposed to be in the US, despite being an American.

So today, it’s not beginning of my vacation; it’s the beginning of my occupation. It’s not the beginning of my days off; it’s the beginning of my days on. I am not off to North Africa; I’m on to North Africa.

(So fuck on, all you jack ons. I hope you figure out where you’re supposed to be.)