Lets delve in, shall we...
Work: Not for me
Labor, stress, hassle, extraneous effort put forth into a menial task that is less than fulfilling, and more than likely to take up the majority of your allotted time in any given week... only to leave you too exhausted to do anything else other than to rest up for work in the time you take off to get away from it.... I reiterate...
I do not work... No, Not Anymore.
I once worked. I was a general manager of an extended hotel chain, for awhile. I awoke around 4 in the morning and headed to work and I got off at about 4 in the afternoon. It was nice to have my evenings to do as I please, but I couldn't go anywhere or do much if I wanted to do any efficient work the next day. And to be honest, it was actually pretty easy if I stuck to my routine and accepted that though my work was appreciated, it would never quite be to the man's satisfaction. And sure, the perks of the job weren't too bad... I could afford a car, a house, insurance on them both along with some stodgy form of health care, to some extent a girlfriend, and overall yea it was all going pretty good fucking terrible.
I would count down the days until I had some time off so I could go blow a hundy or two at Sushi Hana and get delightfully sloppy off of expensive sushimi & sake. My lavish spending somehow made me feel liberated as if the money meant nothing to me, when the reality of the situation was that I cared about it so much so that I went to great lengths to convince myself otherwise. Money aside though, what I truly enjoyed was becoming so intoxicated that my mind literally could not operate and so for a couple of hours I didn't have the capacity to process all of the work I needed to do, or overmore, comprehend that I even worked at all.
As someone who tucks things under the rug, the reoccurring drudgery of life began to build up inside of me until I was over-saturated with despise for the world. Disgusted, I held myself in contempt for complying with Corporate America by believing happiness and prosperity could be brought about by doing HARD WORK for it, instead of the other way around.
Yet still I continued to spend, and drink, and eat, and WORK, and DESPISE, until one day I simply COULD NOT TAKE IT ANYMORE! and I had what some may refer to as a mental breakdown, but what I see now as more of A Great Awakening.
Sitting across two gentleman at a desk in a dim lit room I sat at a verbal standoff as the two authorities prodded and questioned me. Intensely investigating my every movement, reading into to my every breath, evaluating ulterior-motifs behind each and every one of my responses, they wondered if they could trust me. Although the three of us knew they shouldn't, my god-gifted skills of being a shitty person helped me deceive & convince them that they should, and by the time they had finished berating me, we were due for afternoon drinks.
As our meeting came to a close the two gentleman shared a look of approval and one of them pushed a document over the table for me to see. Scooting forward to look it over I assessed its implications: 2 more years of Branch Management, 2 years of opening new locations, 3 years of Regional Management, some padding for unseen circumstances, and ultimately in about 10 years it had me set up to be an Amateur C-Level Executive for the Hotel's Management Company... working directly beneath them to be groomed as one of their successors.... Wow.
The lesser of the aggressors asked me what I thought and as I shook his hand and exited the room, I left him believing it sounded 'Good.' Though let me specify the parameters in case you haven't realized them, yet.
10 FUCKING, conceivably glorious, YEARS OF MY FUCKING LIFE...DOING WHAT? Waking up drinking, eating, sleeping, working, despising, drinking, loathing, hating, dying, only to be rewarded with more monotonous, life-sucking, happiness-draining, mind-numbing, suicide-evoking, work? The price was right , so I took the night to think drink on it
Waking up slumped across a bench at the Airport Welcome Terminal I sat up and dusted myself off; People that tend to drink as I had tend to become accustom to waking up a dirty mess. Assessing my situation I reached into my pockets and pulled out a handful of coins, my passport, a banana, and my corporate credit card. My corporate credit card? Why the fuck do I have, oh, Ohh shit. Mmm. Yeah, I did didn't I.. Yup. sighing, smiling, laughing, ceasing to laugh - pausing in disbelief, laughing laughing laughing, internally crying, laughing.
That's right, I recall... I got so completely obliterated that in a rage of pure emotion I called a cab to pick me up from the bar, pit-stopped at my house to pickup my passport, had him shuttle me all the way across town to the airport, purchased the first international flight out, which happened to be to Mexico, and since I had forgotten to close-out my tab, I had but no choice other than to charge everything on my company's credit card.. but. no. choice..
Making my way to go through the security checkpoint something felt a bit odd. I looked around myself like I was going to find something and stopped for a moment to think. Standing there it suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have my carry-on bag like I typically do when I travel. I realized this since I usually have my computer and several other electronics with me that I have to take out before passing through the metal detector, but since I typically don't take international flights out of the country last minute without any luggage and attempt to live on the run from committing several different accounts of felonies like it was just another fucking Tuesday for fuck sake, I didn't have any. Which helped to invoke and make me realize, Holy Shit! What the fuck am I doing here... oh fuck, fuck me. Excuza fucking me... who the fuck do I think I am? And what the FUCK have I gotten myself into this fucking time.. Pardon me Ladies & Gentleman, just casually waltzing the fuck on over to Mexico here compliments of The Almighty Fucking Man, Man. Holiest of all Fucking Shits!
But the thing was I did feel it in spite of everything. At the end of every nerve inside of me, bursting at the seams an essence undoubtedly believed this life I was living was not for me. And since my heart was telling me I had to 'GO' .....I did. .........A couple of weeks later.
Because yeah I felt it, but to go to Mexico with no cash and only a company card that would either be cut off next to immediately or used to trace and catch me before that time came to be, resulting in my arrest or at best a life spent on the run looking over my shoulder as I'm hiding in the thick of the trees...Nah, I decided best not to start out on the flee.
Rather, I handed in my letter of resignation that same morning, repaid my fees, sold my car along with the rest of my belongings, detached myself from the world I perceived, and for the first time I started living by what I truly believed. No Thank You. No Sir. No Way.
Work is not for me.
You see, work is associated with the things we do not wish to do, and therefore the strides we take to do the things we want cannot be considered as such. Instead they are the steps we take in the journey towards all that we desire and are compelled to achieve. Because why would anyone do something they don't want to do for a life they never get the chance to live.
So what in the hell does this have to do with anything about Blockchains?
Undoubtedly, Everything.
This is only the start of the beginning of A Blockchain Tale and the Cheese Boy it conceives.
Tune in next time for Origins of A Cheese Boy: A Blockchain Tale • Part II — The Great Escape
Where together we will remove the blindfold that masks the matrix that not all of us can see.
Bukowski may have spoken some simple truths, but he was always a cynical cunt.