What do you do when you find out that your world is about to end? What do you do when you find out that the person charged with keeping it alive has been the one smothering it? What do you do when you find out that you've rolled the dice on a happy lucrative future, and what you really need is a safe, financially secure future? What do you do when you find out that the person you go to- the person you trust- is the one that has raised all of these questions? What do you do to fix these mistakes?
What can you do? What can you sell? Who can you become? How do you adjust? How do you fix age-old problems overnight? How do you go from 0 to 60 in 24 to 25?
When it takes most people 30 to 65?
How do you stand up for the people you care about when your shepherd has sold the sheep off to slaughter?
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Friday, May 6, 2011
Futures for Sale
As I walked out of my University building today, I was struck by the same feeling I usually am this time of year. I've finished another year of school, and the summer is full of promise. I've had the luxury of experiencing this sensation for the past six years. School is over. Summer is starting. This is MY time.
What I feel as I walk out of my door (on an invariably beautiful sunny day) is a sense of freedom. I'm free of responsibilities and schedules and papers and part-time work that barely covers my drinking habits and car payment. Freedom isn't free though. We pay for this luxury. During undergrad, I paid the better part of $100,000 for this sensation. During Grad school, I paid with two years of disappointment and hostility. All of this to walk out my door in a t-shirt, take a breath, hold it, and smile. Cheap at half the price. Worth every cent.
What I felt today was a bit different though. I won't finish another year of school. This is it. It's also a bit different because I'm on my own now. I won't be spending another summer cleaning pools and jetting down to the shore on weekends. I need to build my business, a customer base, and my bank account. It's still freedom I feel, but now it's freedom to sink or swim. Freedom feels a lot like vulnerability.
Why do we have to experience this but once a year? This feeling of hope and excitement satisfaction and assurance that everything is as it should be. Why can't I walk out of my door tomorrow and feel those exact same things? Maybe I can and I should. Not just once a year, but everyday.
What I feel as I walk out of my door (on an invariably beautiful sunny day) is a sense of freedom. I'm free of responsibilities and schedules and papers and part-time work that barely covers my drinking habits and car payment. Freedom isn't free though. We pay for this luxury. During undergrad, I paid the better part of $100,000 for this sensation. During Grad school, I paid with two years of disappointment and hostility. All of this to walk out my door in a t-shirt, take a breath, hold it, and smile. Cheap at half the price. Worth every cent.
What I felt today was a bit different though. I won't finish another year of school. This is it. It's also a bit different because I'm on my own now. I won't be spending another summer cleaning pools and jetting down to the shore on weekends. I need to build my business, a customer base, and my bank account. It's still freedom I feel, but now it's freedom to sink or swim. Freedom feels a lot like vulnerability.
Why do we have to experience this but once a year? This feeling of hope and excitement satisfaction and assurance that everything is as it should be. Why can't I walk out of my door tomorrow and feel those exact same things? Maybe I can and I should. Not just once a year, but everyday.
Here's the soundtrack for today Sydney, I'll come runnin
Thursday, May 5, 2011
The first cut is the shallowest
I recently got some advice that I should take up writing. I usually don't like being told what to do, but I've had the itch recently.
So. Here's this. I'm not even really sure what a blog is. I think it's like a diary, but online. Unlike a diary, people seem to want others to read it.
I think it's an interesting concept. Share what you think and feel with others. All from the comfort of your family room. It's a lot like connecting with someone. Just a lot less complicated. Think about it. If you're doing it right, your readers are only privy to your cleverest thoughts. Blogging has even become a 'hobby' with some. I wonder if anyone ever listed Diary-ing as a hobby. With a name like that I doubt anyone would. Sounds much too much like incontinence. I wonder what Anne Frank called it.
I had a diary when I was younger. It had two entries; one was about how my brother was driving me nuts, the other was about a fort I'd built. One was about a strong emotion- anger. The other was about something common, yet important, in my everyday life. Both seemed important enough to write about a decade and a half ago.
15 years later, they both seem like silly entries. I wonder how this will look in 15 years.
So. Here's this. I'm not even really sure what a blog is. I think it's like a diary, but online. Unlike a diary, people seem to want others to read it.
I think it's an interesting concept. Share what you think and feel with others. All from the comfort of your family room. It's a lot like connecting with someone. Just a lot less complicated. Think about it. If you're doing it right, your readers are only privy to your cleverest thoughts. Blogging has even become a 'hobby' with some. I wonder if anyone ever listed Diary-ing as a hobby. With a name like that I doubt anyone would. Sounds much too much like incontinence. I wonder what Anne Frank called it.
I had a diary when I was younger. It had two entries; one was about how my brother was driving me nuts, the other was about a fort I'd built. One was about a strong emotion- anger. The other was about something common, yet important, in my everyday life. Both seemed important enough to write about a decade and a half ago.
15 years later, they both seem like silly entries. I wonder how this will look in 15 years.
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