There is a school of thought that would quite likely be scandalised by the idea of intellectual discussions being held in a pub / bar. Impropriety and what have you. Folks like us (you know who you are) would counter with the notion that our intellectual pursuits occur only in pubs. That's when the cranial creases are watered... doused actually, & whatever is left of our neurons are firing on all cylinders, ablaze thanks to the tipple of choice. Mind you, I'm not advocating that this is the best way. It's just our way. Or my way, if any reader resents the liberty I've taken of assuming anything.
Not to keep tottering around the proverbial mulberry bush (why mulberry, I ask), the latest discussion touched on the dichotomy(?) of loving your work. That is, working the week for the sake of the cheque & engaging in your passion during the weekend OR striving to make your passion, your talent or a synonym of your choice the porker from which your bacon is carved. Right about now, if the thought of a nice ham-n-cheese sandwich has not taken over your senses, you may just be thinking about which of these categories you'd qualify. Some of you I know personally, so I think it'd be safe to assume your reaction being along the lines of "Pshaw!! This is a done-to-death, cat-skinning, horse-flogging excuse of a post. Next!" And I wouldn't blame you either. Sitting as you are, with various nifty MS Office docs open, projecting yourself as the very paragon of honest labour, I suppose the answer to which side you fall on is obvious. Or not. Who am I to predict the vagaries of our likes & dislikes ?
My fellow discusser understands the harsh realities of life & slaves away for 6 days at a job that does not drive him giddy with joy, makes bowls of moolah (he hasn't got to 'pot' status yet... or has. Muhahaha !!) to indulge his vicarious pleasures on the 7th. According to him, this state of affairs is satisfactory & the status quo will be maintained. Regardless of the fact that half the planet thinks he's a beast of a writer, mind you. On the other hand, I work in a job that's staid at best, know the importance of money & yet am of the opinion (a foolish one, I'm starting to think, but I blame Time) that life is only meaningful if Mammon glances benevolently toward the excuses that parade themselves as the end product of my 'talent'. Ahem. Yes...
Why I think like this I don't know. Call me a stubborn b*****d if you want but I've always been obsessed with the idea of living life in vibrant colour; a richness you may associate with the smell of freshly cut fruit on a warm spring day, with a thirst that's quenched by the sharp, cold bitterness of that first beer or the tang of THE filter coffee, the giddy comfort of butter-laced food on a cold day, of lying in the perfect hollow of a bed warmed by your body & the quilt enveloping you... Yes, I want to live like that & I am not stupid enough to think that one every moment will be like this. But I want to try to live at least the majority of what's left in this fashion, if for nothing else than the fact that there are things about us we cannot change, cannot help... and we've learned the hard way (is there any other) that we were dealt a tough hand in the endless card game.
If you've reached this sentence, thanks for reading. When enough foolhardiness has been accumulated, perhaps I shall wager all the chips on a talent I may or may not have. Until then, I shall believe in one life & live another, escaping every now & then into a flamboyant world that tantalizes every one of us on the horizon.
What about you ?
*Yes, this one is wordy & bordering on the contrite. No apologies.
** Many thanks to the discusser. The post hasn't come out as well as hoped but one has to make do.
Song for the moment: Everything in it's right place - Radiohead
Not to keep tottering around the proverbial mulberry bush (why mulberry, I ask), the latest discussion touched on the dichotomy(?) of loving your work. That is, working the week for the sake of the cheque & engaging in your passion during the weekend OR striving to make your passion, your talent or a synonym of your choice the porker from which your bacon is carved. Right about now, if the thought of a nice ham-n-cheese sandwich has not taken over your senses, you may just be thinking about which of these categories you'd qualify. Some of you I know personally, so I think it'd be safe to assume your reaction being along the lines of "Pshaw!! This is a done-to-death, cat-skinning, horse-flogging excuse of a post. Next!" And I wouldn't blame you either. Sitting as you are, with various nifty MS Office docs open, projecting yourself as the very paragon of honest labour, I suppose the answer to which side you fall on is obvious. Or not. Who am I to predict the vagaries of our likes & dislikes ?
My fellow discusser understands the harsh realities of life & slaves away for 6 days at a job that does not drive him giddy with joy, makes bowls of moolah (he hasn't got to 'pot' status yet... or has. Muhahaha !!) to indulge his vicarious pleasures on the 7th. According to him, this state of affairs is satisfactory & the status quo will be maintained. Regardless of the fact that half the planet thinks he's a beast of a writer, mind you. On the other hand, I work in a job that's staid at best, know the importance of money & yet am of the opinion (a foolish one, I'm starting to think, but I blame Time) that life is only meaningful if Mammon glances benevolently toward the excuses that parade themselves as the end product of my 'talent'. Ahem. Yes...
Why I think like this I don't know. Call me a stubborn b*****d if you want but I've always been obsessed with the idea of living life in vibrant colour; a richness you may associate with the smell of freshly cut fruit on a warm spring day, with a thirst that's quenched by the sharp, cold bitterness of that first beer or the tang of THE filter coffee, the giddy comfort of butter-laced food on a cold day, of lying in the perfect hollow of a bed warmed by your body & the quilt enveloping you... Yes, I want to live like that & I am not stupid enough to think that one every moment will be like this. But I want to try to live at least the majority of what's left in this fashion, if for nothing else than the fact that there are things about us we cannot change, cannot help... and we've learned the hard way (is there any other) that we were dealt a tough hand in the endless card game.
If you've reached this sentence, thanks for reading. When enough foolhardiness has been accumulated, perhaps I shall wager all the chips on a talent I may or may not have. Until then, I shall believe in one life & live another, escaping every now & then into a flamboyant world that tantalizes every one of us on the horizon.
What about you ?
*Yes, this one is wordy & bordering on the contrite. No apologies.
** Many thanks to the discusser. The post hasn't come out as well as hoped but one has to make do.
Song for the moment: Everything in it's right place - Radiohead
Comments
but yes, we all are tied. Some are comfortable, while for others it's 'tighter' :)
I first thought this was going to be about the 'break out moments' discussion..then remembered that was mostly just me babbling away :)
Security enslaves the freedom that we wish for, to follow our heart.
@ ashish - thou hast a way with words yourself, saar. Thank you
@ dionysus - :) i'd be the dude who wants to bet big but would graft till i go all in with a two pair. the breakout post is your baby so only you can do justice to that one. & thank you for sharing the post.