I've decided that life really is all about the simple things.
The best songs, the tastiest meals, the unforgettable moments, are almost always so simple. So basic, but so universally loved.
When we are children this is our world.
As we build our powers of reason everything becomes so complicated, but no matter how tangled a web we weave, our basic senses our thrilled by creations of simplicity.
As if longing for a better time.
Saturday, January 17, 2009
Friday, January 16, 2009
The greatest fear
My entire life I've been a student... Until now.
I graduated college, and like the rest of my peers was thrown smack dab into reality. A reality which is really simple.
To survive, one needs money.
To earn money one must work.
Therefore, to survive one must work.
I have only recently stepped out onto the career path, and to be honest my current profession is far from ordinary. I work from a home office for a company that consists of two. I take ping-pong breaks from time to time and maintain an admirable level of flexibility. All of this is in exchange for my current salary, which in this humble writers opinion is sorely deflated.
My point is not dear nor is it concise. The only point I intend to convey is that recently my days have been marred by bouts of anxiety. The type of anxiety that does not stem from my work-load or what I am responsible for. This anxiety stems purely from the fact that I must work.
Right away, one may assume that I'm a lazy bastard and would rather spend my time lounging on a sofa eating mission tortilla chips and drinking Newcastle. In truth it is not working that scares me, it is routine. It's the thought of waking up everyday and knowing that it will be the same as the last and the same as the next.
I fear the death of spontaneity.
The inability to go where the wind blows and live primarily for the present.
I fear the death of individuality.
The inevitable decline of self-worth one must face as a sub-ordinate.
My fears are unfounded, but nonetheless real. As I mentioned earlier my job is far from Office Space and for that I am thankful. But my anxiety persists.
As the Grouch would say:
"Sometimes I can't live it but I can word it
That's my therapy so dear to me and I know this
But often its so hard to keep my focus."
I graduated college, and like the rest of my peers was thrown smack dab into reality. A reality which is really simple.
To survive, one needs money.
To earn money one must work.
Therefore, to survive one must work.
I have only recently stepped out onto the career path, and to be honest my current profession is far from ordinary. I work from a home office for a company that consists of two. I take ping-pong breaks from time to time and maintain an admirable level of flexibility. All of this is in exchange for my current salary, which in this humble writers opinion is sorely deflated.
My point is not dear nor is it concise. The only point I intend to convey is that recently my days have been marred by bouts of anxiety. The type of anxiety that does not stem from my work-load or what I am responsible for. This anxiety stems purely from the fact that I must work.
Right away, one may assume that I'm a lazy bastard and would rather spend my time lounging on a sofa eating mission tortilla chips and drinking Newcastle. In truth it is not working that scares me, it is routine. It's the thought of waking up everyday and knowing that it will be the same as the last and the same as the next.
I fear the death of spontaneity.
The inability to go where the wind blows and live primarily for the present.
I fear the death of individuality.
The inevitable decline of self-worth one must face as a sub-ordinate.
My fears are unfounded, but nonetheless real. As I mentioned earlier my job is far from Office Space and for that I am thankful. But my anxiety persists.
As the Grouch would say:
"Sometimes I can't live it but I can word it
That's my therapy so dear to me and I know this
But often its so hard to keep my focus."
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