Quote:
Originally posted by sebastian_dangerfield
My old man's semi-retired. He reads about four novels a week and plays with his invetsments online. He's gotten dramatically more interesting since he left the fucking rat race. We always thought he'd go nuts becaus he was a workaholic. I tbelieve he's had an epipiphany wherein he realized there's a lot more to life than thinking you're a big dick swinging motherfucker businessman.
I am ambitious as hell, but I'm also not stupid enough to think any of the shit I fiddle with during the day to make money is important. Unless you write a great novel, make a movie or change the face of society through some innovation or polictiacl movement, none of what you do matters in 100 years.
I just want the money. I couldn't care less about any of the accolades, titles or whather anyone respects or admires me. Frankly, I think it'd be more fun to be notorious than admired. But either way, what does it matter what a bunch of people who'll be dead in 50 years think of another person who'll be dead in 50 years?
Enjoy your family and friends. thats all that matters. I plant to haunt any son of abitch who refers to me as a "lawyer" upon my passing. In fact, I will have a provision placed in my will that anyone who refers to me as a "lawyer" or my career be barred from the after funeral reception or inheriting anything.
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Now
I am the female Sebby. (Again.)
I could quite happily spend at least a few years doing fuck-all other than watching TV, drinking beer, gardening (I'd move the fuck out of TCOTU to someplace human with a garden so fast it would make your head spin) and maybe, if I felt a bit useless, learning to tango.
Work is
extraordinarily overrated as a method of ... well, anything, really, other than filling a bank account (and it's frankly not so good at that as some other things), but I was thinking particularly of satisfying an ambition to do something with oneself. I think work actually gets in the way of doing something useful or meaningful with oneself.
Anyone who thinks "oh, I'd get so
bored if I wasn't working" has drunk the Kool-aid. Not that it's surprising, since 90%+ of the population insists that it's God's own truth that all decent non-lazy-layabout people really
want in their heart-of-hearts, even
need, should they desire spiritual fulfillment, to work 50 hours per week doing nothing that particularly betters mankind, others or themselves beyond generating $$$. But 90% of people are fucking morons, and sheep to boot, so there you go.
Incidentally, my old man is semi-retired, too, but he hasn't told my mother. She thinks he works 5-6 days a week, when he really works about 2 1/2 and plays golf the rest of the time. He hit 50, looked around and said "what the fuuuh?" and just stopped. (My mother is fully retired, and within 3 months of quitting she looked 15 years younger, so it's not like she wouldn't understand, but she'd try to make him work in the garden all day if she knew he had free time.)
BR(of course, the gardening stuff just reminds me that there is nothing keeping me in TCOTU right now other than inertia)C
I seem to have woken up grouchy today. Must get coffee.
