(no subject)
My birthday typically stinks. I try not to dwell on it too much, but inevitably it reminds me of my past year's failures and lost opportunities. What inane accomplishments I may have earned by chance do not measure up.
I am tired of this trend. This year I will be closer in age to thirty than I will be to eighteen. This is not inherently significant. But I feel that the time has come once again to raise my own standards. I have done a lot already this year, and barring catastrophe, will do quite a bit more starting in September. But, needless to say, I will still feel like a world class loser on my birthday.
But this, my friends, will be more difficult than learning new languages, and perhaps more difficult even than convincing all of Central Asia that we are not the bad guys. This will be my most sublime birthday accomplishment ever, one that will engender only positive reflection, merriment with my friends, and good memories.
By April 2, 2003, I will have quit my job. As it stands, I believe my last day will be March 28. On my birthday I will reflect on my new life.
There is no good reason to quit my job. It is relatively easy, I am good at it, and despite it's soul-killing boredom and array of pathetic personalities, I am treated well, probably overpaid, and respected. I am leaving because I want to. Because I can afford to. And because I finally have the wherewithal to give my life's priorities the attention they deserve. For five months before school starts, I will be leaving the rat race behind entirely.
I will fence, box, shoot my bow, dance with my girlfriend, read my books, and do all of the things that work supposedly supports yet perniciously crowds out. I had planned on only taking a month or two off, but other than making a little more filthy lucre, I see no reason why I can't turn two months into five. I will have all the time in the world, my favorite city to explore, and hopefully a few hours a week doing some sort of manual productive labor.
I think I am going to hang a calendar on my office wall, just for amusement.
I am tired of this trend. This year I will be closer in age to thirty than I will be to eighteen. This is not inherently significant. But I feel that the time has come once again to raise my own standards. I have done a lot already this year, and barring catastrophe, will do quite a bit more starting in September. But, needless to say, I will still feel like a world class loser on my birthday.
But this, my friends, will be more difficult than learning new languages, and perhaps more difficult even than convincing all of Central Asia that we are not the bad guys. This will be my most sublime birthday accomplishment ever, one that will engender only positive reflection, merriment with my friends, and good memories.
By April 2, 2003, I will have quit my job. As it stands, I believe my last day will be March 28. On my birthday I will reflect on my new life.
There is no good reason to quit my job. It is relatively easy, I am good at it, and despite it's soul-killing boredom and array of pathetic personalities, I am treated well, probably overpaid, and respected. I am leaving because I want to. Because I can afford to. And because I finally have the wherewithal to give my life's priorities the attention they deserve. For five months before school starts, I will be leaving the rat race behind entirely.
I will fence, box, shoot my bow, dance with my girlfriend, read my books, and do all of the things that work supposedly supports yet perniciously crowds out. I had planned on only taking a month or two off, but other than making a little more filthy lucre, I see no reason why I can't turn two months into five. I will have all the time in the world, my favorite city to explore, and hopefully a few hours a week doing some sort of manual productive labor.
I think I am going to hang a calendar on my office wall, just for amusement.