Work Work Work
While finishing up on work at the office, someone I had recently met texted me, asking how I was and all that. I said that I was rushing stuff at work, to which he replied, “Work? How boring.”
I felt offended.
I don’t consider myself a workaholic. (Spending time staring off into space has as much appeal.) I just like working. Or to put it in a less obligatory fashion, I like to keep myself busy. There are times when, yes, I would complain or get all edgy about certain aspects of work, but the kind of fulfillment I gain has no parallel, especially if the task is something I give 100% of myself to.
Admittedly, a part of me likes to work because it affords a kind of escape through substitution. I’ve always said that I’d rather have a headache than a heartache, and it’s always best in my book to strive to transform as much negative energy as possible into productive output, particularly when I’m emotionally down in the dumps (like what happened last year). I’m not very good at it, but I’m learning. And, hopefully, succeeding.
I don’t envy those who are too wealthy to work, who travel and explore the world in order to ‘experience the fullness of life’ without having to worry where the money for the next plane ticket’s going to come from. The only way anyone can expect to grow is through an exertion of effort. Like the way exercise can improve one’s physique, work can improve one’s self-perception and inspire a clarity of purpose. If ever I choose to travel and explore the world, I would want to work for -- essentially earn -- that privilege.
I’m proud that I’m working. I’m proud that there are those who trust me and my ability to get the job done. And I’m proud that I’ve gone this far and have exerted a lot to get here. Because I’ve come to know myself a great deal. And that’s where I believe one should start to experience the fullness of life. Not by traveling the world, but by exploring one’s own soul. By knowing oneself.
Sure. It’s always nice to hear someone talk about a foreign land and its people and culture but, in the absence of personal insight, that special quality about relating an experience that reveals one’s inner growth, that’s really no different from watching the Discovery Channel.
While finishing up on work at the office, someone I had recently met texted me, asking how I was and all that. I said that I was rushing stuff at work, to which he replied, “Work? How boring.”
I felt offended.
I don’t consider myself a workaholic. (Spending time staring off into space has as much appeal.) I just like working. Or to put it in a less obligatory fashion, I like to keep myself busy. There are times when, yes, I would complain or get all edgy about certain aspects of work, but the kind of fulfillment I gain has no parallel, especially if the task is something I give 100% of myself to.
Admittedly, a part of me likes to work because it affords a kind of escape through substitution. I’ve always said that I’d rather have a headache than a heartache, and it’s always best in my book to strive to transform as much negative energy as possible into productive output, particularly when I’m emotionally down in the dumps (like what happened last year). I’m not very good at it, but I’m learning. And, hopefully, succeeding.
I don’t envy those who are too wealthy to work, who travel and explore the world in order to ‘experience the fullness of life’ without having to worry where the money for the next plane ticket’s going to come from. The only way anyone can expect to grow is through an exertion of effort. Like the way exercise can improve one’s physique, work can improve one’s self-perception and inspire a clarity of purpose. If ever I choose to travel and explore the world, I would want to work for -- essentially earn -- that privilege.
I’m proud that I’m working. I’m proud that there are those who trust me and my ability to get the job done. And I’m proud that I’ve gone this far and have exerted a lot to get here. Because I’ve come to know myself a great deal. And that’s where I believe one should start to experience the fullness of life. Not by traveling the world, but by exploring one’s own soul. By knowing oneself.
Sure. It’s always nice to hear someone talk about a foreign land and its people and culture but, in the absence of personal insight, that special quality about relating an experience that reveals one’s inner growth, that’s really no different from watching the Discovery Channel.
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