The True color of Silence

Silence, despite the saying, is not golden. 

Silence is darkness, most times, where people are left too often, forced to make decisions in the utter lack of information that forces one's hand. In this way, silence is perhaps like the depths of interstellar space, a place where one, if stuck, would be forced to seek something in the darkness to survive off of.

Welcome to the Black... where darkness rules, it's cold, and you have to make a huge amount of intuitive leaps to figure out what is creating the forces affecting you. Unless you are lucky, and some system with light as part of it lies nearby.

This is what waiting for others to make decisions is often like... drifting in the black, waiting for some impact, influence, to pull you into the life zone of a nearby system. Just hoping said system is not mere dark matter, waiting to form a singularity of me.

So one sits amid the darkness, that utter lack of input, when others fail to communicate, or only do so in static filled bursts of radiations, drifting through the long night, wondering when it will end. 

Case in point. Job Searches. Far too often, I never get clear feedback from the source, only vague hints buried amid the universe's background noise, of what the status of a particular target destination is, the probes sent there to gather info, called resumes, stir me by the initial reports, the first glimpses (callbacks and interviews), then fall silent, until the death signal comes, with few real clues as to what the application to that job encountered in the way of debris to leave that probe dead.

Was it some radiation of the sun (company) it orbited? Was it that the probe self-destructed on some random signal from me, some on-line comment, some simple mistake in the trajectory corrections made during the interview process? A cold, uncaring comet that blazed forth, outshining my probe? Something else? Did I find a naked singularity, some slip in my manner or some bit of my past that swallowed up the probe?

Nothing, until that death knell buzz, short, soft, and deadly to hope.

So, today, I return to writing to deal with this, and other issues in my life, for a day. Where I will go, I still have no clue, in those myriad universes inside my head. But, at least there, I have some influence, little though it may be, upon the fate of those in the center of those tales.