Monday, January 03, 2005
Like the President says, "It's hard work."
I am a little boy in a confectionary shop.
Nine out of ten jars contain nails, poison, spiders, or acid.
Of the remaining ten percent, nine out of ten contain nothing at all.
Of the remaining one percent, nine out of ten contain brussels sprouts, plain white rice, or boiled potatoes without butter or herbs.
That one jar in a thousand, however, contains the sweet reward...
A job that won't drive me mad.
A job that won't leave me dead inside.
A job that I won't find bland and uninisteresting.
A job that I love.
I am not greedy. All I want from life (well, the working segment of life, anyway) is a job that I enjoy. I don't need a hundred bucks an hour and a company jet; enough pay to stay out of debt, cover for emergencies, and buy the occasional luxury is all I need. I hear fairy tales of people who wake up in the morning eager to get to work, anticipating the challenges and rewards the day will bring. I want that.
I have had my share of empty jars, scorpion stings, and unbuttered white bread.
I want a taste of something sweet.
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