Friday, 5 February 2010

Work: The Chains of Living

I'm not lazy. At least I am pretty sure I'm not lazy. I've had jobs. Many in fact. Some difficult in both the mental and physical sense and some easy again in both the mental and physical. I have also worked more than one job at a time. This is not a brag. There is nothing to brag about. I am just giving evidence to support my statement. I shall move on to my point. I will allow that often I do appear to be a lazy individual. I would however like to propose that I am not lazy so much as unambitious. And contrary to popular thought those are not mutually exclusive.

I have this creeping sensation that this stigma of laziness shall follow me where ever I go. I may lose promotions and I am fairly sure that my parents will soon discover the reason to disown me that they have been searching for so long. Here is the root of my problem. I do not believe that I was created to work, every day, tirelessly, from 9-5. I understand that to be a functional part of any society, a sentence that we all must endure, I must make money and support myself and my loved ones. And don't get me wrong I love 'things', I love 'things' a lot. And I understand that money doesn't just grow on trees. I should it has been screamed at me since puberty. I just don't think I approve of working until death. I do know I fully approve of living until death and that living isn't something you can do sat behind a desk, pushing keys all day. Can anyone ever be truly happy with that? I don't want to work to be life.

All this leaves me, as usual, dreading the future, when I won't get to freely do whatever enters my tiny little mind. When I shall have to ask permission to breathe and watch every careful step, as is fitting for a being of my social and professional standing. In essence that time when I shall punch my soul in the face hourly and try desperately to make sure my children are the most rebellious hell raisers modern society has every seen. Because they can be and I cannot. Well, at least not any longer.

The physical:
The domain of my adolescence
The desired:
Wealth, independent
The feeling in the forefront:
Hunger pains of freedom
The smothering sense:
Visual - Watching a fresh beginning with the fall of innocent snow
In absence of misplaced action:
Sleep, as always the comfort of slumber
If I were listening closely:
Quite Little Voices - We Were Promised Jetpacks

I swear my next blog shall have nothing to do with work nor my laziness. It has just been on my mind far too much lately. The effect of my surroundings I assume. Perhaps I shall have something nice and happy in my next entry. But, I'm not going to lie, most likely not. Those things frustrate my anger and hurt my cynical feelings. You should never hurt your internal cynic, that's how the world burns.