Monday Morning Blog
- Something I've been avoiding for a long time is going to the dentist. I haven't gone to a regular checkup in about 2 years, I think. Part of the reason is because I'm scared of all those drills and stuff. But beyond that, I just don't trust the dental industry in general. It all seems shady to me. I feel like as long as I take care of my teeth normally, I'll be fine, but if I go get a checkup, the dentist will tell me I need all this stuff done when I really don't. Just as a way of making more money off of me or my insurance company, they'll make me get my wisdom teeth pulled or something. Still, I probably should get a checkup anyways, I just need to find a dentist that I trust.
- I guess the dentists themselves are only partly to blame, it's the overall system that is messed up. Since so much of the costs are paid for by insurance companies, the dentists can do pretty much whatever they want to jack them for money, and most people don't do anything about it.
I hate the insurance industry so much, maybe even more so than the advertising industry. The concept isn't terrible, but for normal schmoes like me and you, it really ends up being a lose-lose situation. You pay your insurance company a monthly or yearly "premium" for "coverage", in other words, you're giving them some of your money, and in case something bad happens (i.e. a car accident, you get cancer, etc.), they are supposed to pay to take care of it.
Now, 90% or more of the time, nothing bad ever happens, and in that case, 100% of the money you've been paying stays in the pocket of your insurance company. Which is fine, because that's for the service they are providing of distributing risk between their millions of customers.
The thing that pisses me off is when bad stuff happens and you expect your insurance company to pay up, but you are the one with a headache about collecting. You and your family have been paying premiums to State Farm/Allstate/Geico for years, and when you skid on a patch of ice and hit a mailbox, guess what? You're afraid to report it to your agent because they might raise your premium. Think about that, of all the thousands of dollars you have spent over the years for their "coverage", without ever asking for any of it back, you are now afraid to ask them for a few hundred bucks to fix your fender. Not only do you have to foot the first $500 or $1000 of the bill yourself because it's the "deductible", but within a few months your insurance company will probably have recouped whatever they had to pay, by jacking up your premium. "Like a good neighbor" my eye!
Then there's health insurance. For whatever reason that is beyond your control, you get sick and need all this expensive treatment at the hospital. Instead of gladly spitting back a small amount from their mountains of cash to take care of you, your health insurance tries to find every way it can to wriggle off the hook. They'll dig into your history and if it was a "pre-existing condition", you're on your own. Or they decide to go through your original application with a fine tooth comb, trying to find a technicality that will legally release them from responsibility. So you could be not only battling for your life, but also fighting the hospital and the insurance company at the same time just to get everything paid for. As if you wanted to get sick or something, because it's so fun.
Of course, I'm partly exaggerating, and it's usually not all that horrible. But these things do happen and it's not right. Unfortunately, the way our society works, insurance is a necessary evil, kind of like lawyers. So the way I see it, either you find a good agent and pay up, or just get the cheapest coverage you can, and put the money you would've been spending into the bank as your personal "in-case-sh*t" fund, as Chris Rock would call it. Then "in case sh*t" don't happen, you still got most of your money.
"This sucks! When I had health insurance I could get hit by a bus, or light myself on fire... now I gotta be careful?!" - Joey from Friends
- Observation of the day: The nicest-smelling people in the world are old black ladies. I don't know why, but it's true.
- Between mowing the lawn, being at a company picnic, playing softball, and working on my car over the weekend, my body is a little sunburnt now. It sucks to not be able put on a shirt in the morning without feeling like all my skin is peeling off. I've also got a couple blisters to show for my weekend activities, thanks to a bat with a handle covered with sandpaper-like material, the shakiest lawn mower ever, and trying to loosen the super tight bolts on my wheels. The best part about blisters is when they pop, and my favorite ones are the bloody ones. It must be the best feeling in the world.
- Being at that company picnic made me feel pretty young and out of place. It was supposed to be for employees to bring their families, but more in the sense of "wife and kids", not "mommy and daddy". I was gonna bring my sis, but she ended up not being able to make it. So basically, I went there by myself, ate 2 pieces of fried chicken, drank a beer, said hi to a few people, and left. Unless certain stars collide and I get married within the next 12 months, I don't think I will be going to next year's picnic.
- Friday was Chinese Father's Day. Did everyone remember to wish their Chinese Father a happy day?
Monday, August 11, 2003
Friday, August 08, 2003
- So I guess Arnold Schwarzenegger is officially running for governor in California. Man... whoever is running against him better win, or else I will definitely have lost all faith in our system of democracy. You wouldn't even need a campaign team to come up with ads against him, just run clips of "Jingle All The Way" and see if people still want him to run their state.
- I think I should take a moment to pay tribute to a severely underrated asset to all of our lives: the Sun. Sure, we all like the Sun a lot already. Everyone enjoys it when it's "nice and sunny" outside, many of us desire to "get more sun" whenever we can, and it's almost never used in negative context. But too often we think of our Sun only in terms of its role in weather, while forgetting its much more signifcant role as the source of all our energy.
Other than some scattered obscure undersea ecosystems that rely on the heat of the earth's core, everything that has ever lived on this planet depends in some form or another on the energy of the Sun. It's easy for us humans, being at the top of the food chain, to lose track of this fact. But everything we eat, whether we are vegetarian or carnivorous, contains energy that was somehow harnessed originally from sunlight. That steak you eat comes from a cow, which ate grass, which was able to grow because of the Sun. The exact protein chains that end up in your body may chemically change along the way, but every last calorie you burn can be somehow traced back to the process of photosynthesis, which gets 100% of its stored energy from the Sun.
Not only this, but when you drive a car, it is running on gasoline that has been processed from fossil fuels. What are fossil fuels? None other than decomposed organic material. Though heavily compressed over time to become liquid form, all of the energy in this organic material once belonged to a prehistoric plant or animal that inevitably derived its energy from sunlight.
So as you can see, the Sun is much more than a mere glowing object in the sky that provides us opportunity to tan or gives us warm weather. It is no less than the very key to our survival. Bless the Sun and its all-sustaining light. Showering us generously day after day with its glorious photons. And even when the Sun sets, it provides us ample light throughout the nighttime hours by reflecting itself off the moon. Seriously, what a trooper. What else can I say? I'm in awe.
- A few days ago I went with Cindy to one of those Japanese restaurants where they cook the stuff in front of you (teppan?). Across the table were these two ladies that were probably in their 50's or so, and one of them asked me how old I was, so I said 23. To which she replied, "I've got shoes that are older than you". All righty then...
- I think I should take a moment to pay tribute to a severely underrated asset to all of our lives: the Sun. Sure, we all like the Sun a lot already. Everyone enjoys it when it's "nice and sunny" outside, many of us desire to "get more sun" whenever we can, and it's almost never used in negative context. But too often we think of our Sun only in terms of its role in weather, while forgetting its much more signifcant role as the source of all our energy.
Other than some scattered obscure undersea ecosystems that rely on the heat of the earth's core, everything that has ever lived on this planet depends in some form or another on the energy of the Sun. It's easy for us humans, being at the top of the food chain, to lose track of this fact. But everything we eat, whether we are vegetarian or carnivorous, contains energy that was somehow harnessed originally from sunlight. That steak you eat comes from a cow, which ate grass, which was able to grow because of the Sun. The exact protein chains that end up in your body may chemically change along the way, but every last calorie you burn can be somehow traced back to the process of photosynthesis, which gets 100% of its stored energy from the Sun.
Not only this, but when you drive a car, it is running on gasoline that has been processed from fossil fuels. What are fossil fuels? None other than decomposed organic material. Though heavily compressed over time to become liquid form, all of the energy in this organic material once belonged to a prehistoric plant or animal that inevitably derived its energy from sunlight.
So as you can see, the Sun is much more than a mere glowing object in the sky that provides us opportunity to tan or gives us warm weather. It is no less than the very key to our survival. Bless the Sun and its all-sustaining light. Showering us generously day after day with its glorious photons. And even when the Sun sets, it provides us ample light throughout the nighttime hours by reflecting itself off the moon. Seriously, what a trooper. What else can I say? I'm in awe.
- A few days ago I went with Cindy to one of those Japanese restaurants where they cook the stuff in front of you (teppan?). Across the table were these two ladies that were probably in their 50's or so, and one of them asked me how old I was, so I said 23. To which she replied, "I've got shoes that are older than you". All righty then...
Thursday, August 07, 2003
Aaron Karo
I've had a more relaxed day at work for once. It's allowed me to do a little freelance reading, and one site that I've found to be fun reading is www.aaronkaro.com. A couple years ago, I remember reading this guy's "ruminations" on college life. Before everyone had their own blogs, he was writing purely entertaining, quality material in a monthly newsletter, posted on the internet or distributed through email lists.
I forgot about him until now, and it turns out that since then, he's graduated college, worked on Wall Street, quit, compiled his writings into a book, and spent time touring the country doing stand-up comedy. Through it all, he's continued to write consistently hilarious ruminations, a lot of which I can relate to, but most of which I lack the wit and charm to transfer to my own blog. After reading all his stuff, I feel shamed to continue posting in my blog, which is devastatingly mediocre in comparison. But anyways, I highly recommend that everyone check out that site and read through his columns.
Here are a few of my favorites:
"I think maybe I’m starting to figure women out though. One thing I have noticed is that girls are always cold and they are always complaining that they’re feet hurt. (Who the hell told you to wear seven-inch heels anyway?) So, I think what I’m gonna do is carry around a pair of sneakers and a sweater. That’ll really make me a hit with the ladies! Man, the things we do for love."
It's funny, cause I've known this for a long time but never did anything about it until recently. This guy thinks like me. Except instead of a sweater, I keep a fleece in the backseat of my car. And these days when Olivia asks me which shoes she should wear, I always tell her "I really like your white and blue sneakers". Even if we're going to a fancy place.
"Did I miss the poof revolution? Since when did it become mandatory for all girls to use one of those poofy things in the shower? I was crashing at a girl friend’s place and all she had was a poof and liquid soap. Guys were just not meant to use a poof in the shower. It’s too rough in places it should be gentle and too gentle when it should be rough. I feel uncomfortable just writing about it."
I can't help but respectfully disagree here. The gentleness/roughness issue is easily remedied by careful usage, most should be able to easily vary the amount of pressure applied in using the "poof" depending on the sensitivity of the area to be washed. It's not just for girls. But like him, I never knew what the real name was for the longest time, and I always called it the "poofy thing". Now, I've been enlightened to know that it's called a loofa.
"I am fascinated by bathroom attendants. To me, this is a sign that the economy is so bad we’ve been reduced to just making up jobs. Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I really do need baby powder, condoms, six varieties of mints and twenty different kinds of cologne every time I use the bathroom. I certainly don’t need all that stuff handed to me. And I definitely don’t want to tip this guy every time I take a piss. It’s like a urinal tollbooth in there."
I kind of like those guys actually. But it definitely does get annoying that I gotta feel pressured to drop a buck in his tray, just cause he handed me a paper towel after I washed my hands. I can get my own damn paper towel. They're at least part of the reason I tend to break $10 and $20 bills more, instead of using my singles to buy stuff. Stupid, I know, but hey... pays off when you really gotta pee at Barleycorn.
"My college buddies are obsessed with fantasy sports to the point that I’m actually worried about them. Here’s an example. My friend Jeremy is at this club and bumps into Kurt Thomas of the Knicks. Now if I met Kurt Thomas, I’d be getting his autograph, taking pictures with him, etc., but not Jeremy. Here is their conversation. Jeremy: Hey, you’re Kurt Thomas! Thomas: Yeah. Jeremy: It’s great to meet you. Thomas: Thanks dog. Jeremy: You know, I have you on my fantasy basketball team. Thomas: Word? Jeremy: Yeah, listen, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. Thomas: What? Jeremy: I’m in second place, and I could really use some more blocks from you. Thomas: More blocks? No doubt, I’ll see what I can do. Jeremy: Thanks man, have a good night. That’s a true story. A few days later, Thomas had the most in blocks in one game of his career. He must have done it all for Jeremy."
Substitute in that story "Joe" for "Jeremy", "Mike Mussina" for "Kurt Thomas", and "Strikeouts" for "Blocks, and you've got a perfect description of my dream encounter with my favorite fantasy player.
"I wish med school kids wouldn’t show off so much. The other day a bunch of my friends were hanging out and someone farted. We all laughed but then the med student of the bunch said, “Guys, that was just a natural mixture of carbon dioxide, formed from chemical reactions between stomach acid and intestinal fluid, as well as hydrogen and methane.” Well that kind of took the fun out of it."
Yeah, I'm pretty immature like that, but most of the time Olivia laughs it off. But maybe I should try to be a little more professional around her med-school friends. They probably don't appreciate my brand of crass humor as much. So in the future I'll have to resist the temptation to call Magglio Ordonez "Fagglio" or Bobby Jackson "Booby Jackson" when I'm at one of those dinner parties or whatever. Only when I'm with my own less sophisticated group of friends could I say stuff like "I worked out at the Bally's in Queerfield (Deerfield)" or "Let's go eat at Taco Smell".
*****
Also, the call for any interested softball players continues. It sounds like there's enough interest for me to go ahead an plan details, so that's good. Tentatively, it seems early Sunday afternoon would be an ideal time, although I am still leaving the door open for a Saturday date too. Talk to me within the next couple days if possible.
I've had a more relaxed day at work for once. It's allowed me to do a little freelance reading, and one site that I've found to be fun reading is www.aaronkaro.com. A couple years ago, I remember reading this guy's "ruminations" on college life. Before everyone had their own blogs, he was writing purely entertaining, quality material in a monthly newsletter, posted on the internet or distributed through email lists.
I forgot about him until now, and it turns out that since then, he's graduated college, worked on Wall Street, quit, compiled his writings into a book, and spent time touring the country doing stand-up comedy. Through it all, he's continued to write consistently hilarious ruminations, a lot of which I can relate to, but most of which I lack the wit and charm to transfer to my own blog. After reading all his stuff, I feel shamed to continue posting in my blog, which is devastatingly mediocre in comparison. But anyways, I highly recommend that everyone check out that site and read through his columns.
Here are a few of my favorites:
"I think maybe I’m starting to figure women out though. One thing I have noticed is that girls are always cold and they are always complaining that they’re feet hurt. (Who the hell told you to wear seven-inch heels anyway?) So, I think what I’m gonna do is carry around a pair of sneakers and a sweater. That’ll really make me a hit with the ladies! Man, the things we do for love."
It's funny, cause I've known this for a long time but never did anything about it until recently. This guy thinks like me. Except instead of a sweater, I keep a fleece in the backseat of my car. And these days when Olivia asks me which shoes she should wear, I always tell her "I really like your white and blue sneakers". Even if we're going to a fancy place.
"Did I miss the poof revolution? Since when did it become mandatory for all girls to use one of those poofy things in the shower? I was crashing at a girl friend’s place and all she had was a poof and liquid soap. Guys were just not meant to use a poof in the shower. It’s too rough in places it should be gentle and too gentle when it should be rough. I feel uncomfortable just writing about it."
I can't help but respectfully disagree here. The gentleness/roughness issue is easily remedied by careful usage, most should be able to easily vary the amount of pressure applied in using the "poof" depending on the sensitivity of the area to be washed. It's not just for girls. But like him, I never knew what the real name was for the longest time, and I always called it the "poofy thing". Now, I've been enlightened to know that it's called a loofa.
"I am fascinated by bathroom attendants. To me, this is a sign that the economy is so bad we’ve been reduced to just making up jobs. Let’s just say, for argument’s sake, that I really do need baby powder, condoms, six varieties of mints and twenty different kinds of cologne every time I use the bathroom. I certainly don’t need all that stuff handed to me. And I definitely don’t want to tip this guy every time I take a piss. It’s like a urinal tollbooth in there."
I kind of like those guys actually. But it definitely does get annoying that I gotta feel pressured to drop a buck in his tray, just cause he handed me a paper towel after I washed my hands. I can get my own damn paper towel. They're at least part of the reason I tend to break $10 and $20 bills more, instead of using my singles to buy stuff. Stupid, I know, but hey... pays off when you really gotta pee at Barleycorn.
"My college buddies are obsessed with fantasy sports to the point that I’m actually worried about them. Here’s an example. My friend Jeremy is at this club and bumps into Kurt Thomas of the Knicks. Now if I met Kurt Thomas, I’d be getting his autograph, taking pictures with him, etc., but not Jeremy. Here is their conversation. Jeremy: Hey, you’re Kurt Thomas! Thomas: Yeah. Jeremy: It’s great to meet you. Thomas: Thanks dog. Jeremy: You know, I have you on my fantasy basketball team. Thomas: Word? Jeremy: Yeah, listen, I was wondering if I could ask you a favor. Thomas: What? Jeremy: I’m in second place, and I could really use some more blocks from you. Thomas: More blocks? No doubt, I’ll see what I can do. Jeremy: Thanks man, have a good night. That’s a true story. A few days later, Thomas had the most in blocks in one game of his career. He must have done it all for Jeremy."
Substitute in that story "Joe" for "Jeremy", "Mike Mussina" for "Kurt Thomas", and "Strikeouts" for "Blocks, and you've got a perfect description of my dream encounter with my favorite fantasy player.
"I wish med school kids wouldn’t show off so much. The other day a bunch of my friends were hanging out and someone farted. We all laughed but then the med student of the bunch said, “Guys, that was just a natural mixture of carbon dioxide, formed from chemical reactions between stomach acid and intestinal fluid, as well as hydrogen and methane.” Well that kind of took the fun out of it."
Yeah, I'm pretty immature like that, but most of the time Olivia laughs it off. But maybe I should try to be a little more professional around her med-school friends. They probably don't appreciate my brand of crass humor as much. So in the future I'll have to resist the temptation to call Magglio Ordonez "Fagglio" or Bobby Jackson "Booby Jackson" when I'm at one of those dinner parties or whatever. Only when I'm with my own less sophisticated group of friends could I say stuff like "I worked out at the Bally's in Queerfield (Deerfield)" or "Let's go eat at Taco Smell".
*****
Also, the call for any interested softball players continues. It sounds like there's enough interest for me to go ahead an plan details, so that's good. Tentatively, it seems early Sunday afternoon would be an ideal time, although I am still leaving the door open for a Saturday date too. Talk to me within the next couple days if possible.
Wednesday, August 06, 2003
Tuesday, August 05, 2003
Serve This
Recently, especially in light of the rollercoaster that has been my last couple weeks of work, I've come to the realization that my job makes me more or less a servant. It's not technically a "service" position, like answering phones and dealing with customers' problems, but that just means that instead of being a servant to customers, I'm a servant to my bosses. This was a difficult thing for me to fully grasp because now that I think of it, I've never been in the position to serve other people. I'm used to being served.
Most of us (myself included) went through years of school and looked at it as though it were some burden placed on our shoulders. By the final semester of my senior year at college, I couldn't wait to take my last exam, grab my diploma and go. Too busy being pissed at professors who talked down to me, and too worried about getting the best grades possible, I failed to recognize the fact that school was there for my benefit, and not the other way around. All these professors, TA's, and department administrators that I viewed as the enemy, were actually people that were being paid to make sure I got my edumacation. Maybe it didn't always work out that way, with lazy and self-absorbed professors all over the place, but that was the intention.
Well, now that I'm more than a year removed from graduation and been working for a while, it's becoming more apparent that the days of me being served by everyone around me are over. Though my managers and most of the people I work with are eager to help me and answer my questions, the bottom line is that I work for them and that's the only reason they pay me each week.
Ever since I started working this job, I've wondered why I get home each night feeling so tired and drained, and I still haven't come up with a good answer. I mean, it's not like I'm lifting rocks all day, I'm sitting at a desk for the majority of 8 or 9 hours. All I know is, at the end of each day, I feel like I desperately need some time to recuperate. Exactly what it is I'm recuperating from, I don't know.
I think a big part of it is that I'm just not used to being in the position of serving other people. Yes, I'm getting paid for what I do, but other than that, my work is solely for the benefit of someone else. On the surface, when my boss gives me a list of Action Items from a meeting to take care of, it's a lot like a professor assigning a chapter to study or a problem set to do. But in reality, studying that chapter or doing that problem set is for my own good. If I don't do it, nobody really loses out but me. On the other hand, those Action Items have very little direct effect on my life. I might gain some technical experience from getting them accomplished, but that's merely a side benefit. So while it's probably just as tough, if not tougher, to work on an MP for 8 hours as it is to be at this job all day, the situation is very different.
Doing something for the sake of money and doing it for the sake of personal gain are two different things to me. Money is great, but it's honestly not that important to me. Maybe it's because I've never had to worry much about not having enough of it, so I don't fully appreciate its value. But really, the paycheck I get each Friday is not enough, in and of itself, to motivate me to work my butt off at my job. I do work hard, partly because it's the way I've been brought up, but also because I have some faith that in the end, my effort will pay off in some way when all is said and done. I'm getting off my original topic though.
I guess in the bigger picture of my overall life, there's a significant shift in paradigm that has to come with the adjustment of starting a career. For 22 years, the focus has always been on improving myself, and working hard for my own future gain. Well, that future is now, and with its arrival, the questions arise - who am I working hard for, and for what purpose?
Because my primary role is no longer to serve myself and my own interests, there must be some deeper motivation and personal justification for something that takes up the majority of my waking hours and demands so much of my soul. Right now, I lack a clear sense of what this motivation is, or where it's supposed to come from, and maybe that's why I end up feeling so debilitated at the end of each day.
Maybe I need to have a wife and kids to support, and having them depend on me and my paycheck will provide a driving force to move forward. Maybe I need to take up a satisfying hobby, to counter the draining effects of serving other people's interests at work all the time. Maybe I should drop everything and start my own company, have people work for me, and continue to be entirely focused on my personal gain and no one else's, for the rest of my life. All of the above? None of the above?
Anyways, if I had known that leaving school would effectively mark the end of my life as a "servee" and the beginning of my life as a "server", maybe I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to walk across that stage to get my fake diploma on that fateful day in May 2002. But hey, life goes on. And I'd like to believe that some day, everything I wonder about will all make sense to me.
"Welcome to the real world -- it sucks" - Monica from Friends
Recently, especially in light of the rollercoaster that has been my last couple weeks of work, I've come to the realization that my job makes me more or less a servant. It's not technically a "service" position, like answering phones and dealing with customers' problems, but that just means that instead of being a servant to customers, I'm a servant to my bosses. This was a difficult thing for me to fully grasp because now that I think of it, I've never been in the position to serve other people. I'm used to being served.
Most of us (myself included) went through years of school and looked at it as though it were some burden placed on our shoulders. By the final semester of my senior year at college, I couldn't wait to take my last exam, grab my diploma and go. Too busy being pissed at professors who talked down to me, and too worried about getting the best grades possible, I failed to recognize the fact that school was there for my benefit, and not the other way around. All these professors, TA's, and department administrators that I viewed as the enemy, were actually people that were being paid to make sure I got my edumacation. Maybe it didn't always work out that way, with lazy and self-absorbed professors all over the place, but that was the intention.
Well, now that I'm more than a year removed from graduation and been working for a while, it's becoming more apparent that the days of me being served by everyone around me are over. Though my managers and most of the people I work with are eager to help me and answer my questions, the bottom line is that I work for them and that's the only reason they pay me each week.
Ever since I started working this job, I've wondered why I get home each night feeling so tired and drained, and I still haven't come up with a good answer. I mean, it's not like I'm lifting rocks all day, I'm sitting at a desk for the majority of 8 or 9 hours. All I know is, at the end of each day, I feel like I desperately need some time to recuperate. Exactly what it is I'm recuperating from, I don't know.
I think a big part of it is that I'm just not used to being in the position of serving other people. Yes, I'm getting paid for what I do, but other than that, my work is solely for the benefit of someone else. On the surface, when my boss gives me a list of Action Items from a meeting to take care of, it's a lot like a professor assigning a chapter to study or a problem set to do. But in reality, studying that chapter or doing that problem set is for my own good. If I don't do it, nobody really loses out but me. On the other hand, those Action Items have very little direct effect on my life. I might gain some technical experience from getting them accomplished, but that's merely a side benefit. So while it's probably just as tough, if not tougher, to work on an MP for 8 hours as it is to be at this job all day, the situation is very different.
Doing something for the sake of money and doing it for the sake of personal gain are two different things to me. Money is great, but it's honestly not that important to me. Maybe it's because I've never had to worry much about not having enough of it, so I don't fully appreciate its value. But really, the paycheck I get each Friday is not enough, in and of itself, to motivate me to work my butt off at my job. I do work hard, partly because it's the way I've been brought up, but also because I have some faith that in the end, my effort will pay off in some way when all is said and done. I'm getting off my original topic though.
I guess in the bigger picture of my overall life, there's a significant shift in paradigm that has to come with the adjustment of starting a career. For 22 years, the focus has always been on improving myself, and working hard for my own future gain. Well, that future is now, and with its arrival, the questions arise - who am I working hard for, and for what purpose?
Because my primary role is no longer to serve myself and my own interests, there must be some deeper motivation and personal justification for something that takes up the majority of my waking hours and demands so much of my soul. Right now, I lack a clear sense of what this motivation is, or where it's supposed to come from, and maybe that's why I end up feeling so debilitated at the end of each day.
Maybe I need to have a wife and kids to support, and having them depend on me and my paycheck will provide a driving force to move forward. Maybe I need to take up a satisfying hobby, to counter the draining effects of serving other people's interests at work all the time. Maybe I should drop everything and start my own company, have people work for me, and continue to be entirely focused on my personal gain and no one else's, for the rest of my life. All of the above? None of the above?
Anyways, if I had known that leaving school would effectively mark the end of my life as a "servee" and the beginning of my life as a "server", maybe I wouldn't have been in such a hurry to walk across that stage to get my fake diploma on that fateful day in May 2002. But hey, life goes on. And I'd like to believe that some day, everything I wonder about will all make sense to me.
"Welcome to the real world -- it sucks" - Monica from Friends
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