Friday, August 01, 2003

it's one of those days at work when i can feel myself wondering where my life is going. i have a good job, and i like the people i work with, and i feel fairly useful. but inescapably, i know that this is not what i am meant to be doing, and that the longer i stay here, the more comfortable i get in plotting out my daily life in minutes and hours of filing and phone calls and meetings. there are a couple lines of thought about working: it's a job, not a life; it's a job, not a career. it's experience. it's this, it's that.

but what it comes down to is that i am six hundred times happier sitting at home reading philip gourevitch's we wish to inform you that tomorrow we will be killed with our families for the second time, and scribbling historical comparisons to the Rwandan genocide in 1994 in the margins. it isn't my job that reminds me i'm alive, it's doing this. and why can't this be my job?

there is a certain sense in my office and, from what i've gathered, other offices that we are all just drones, sitting at our desks waiting for the paycheck, members of a solid mass of humanity that has sacrificed our greater hopes and dreams for a stable and steady paycheck.

life gets lost in the minutia.

don't get me wrong; i would not sacrifice this experience for anything. i think it's very important that each person experience an office job for a concerted amount of time in their life; to get at least a year of experience and to understand some things about human nature and relationships and economics. but it is the raw intellectual energy that is present in a scholastic setting, something you aren't even keenly aware of until you live without it, that is the lifeforce.

or at least, it is mine.

and now i am off to another meeting.