Lust is limited.
The greatest impersonation in our civilization is the impersonation of love by lust. It is profound that a lot of individuals in our generation can’t tell the difference between the two. I fucking know this. I fucking see my world crumbling down before I turn 40. I like the thrill of the chase, but knowing there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel has not turned me around. I am that light, or at least I hope so (gulp) The more I try to turn lust into love with not much more than a bunsen burner and some glassware the more I realize I chose the wrong elective. Its not to say that I am not enjoying life in general, or I inferring that I have not benefitted from my overexposure to the Good Bad and M.A.A.D towns in the country. These posts try to report that we are making progress. I think the greatest thing given to me in about 2 business days was my Kindle. About 30 books last year were delivered wirelessly and although it looked like that kid in terminal 3 was pretending to read, that kid was actually reading. Reading has since helped me hate the normal “get a good job” and “retire” and “be old” and “suck”.
Being the driver of this bus on the 105 freeway of mediocrity, I was told not to slow down under 50 miles per hour, in which case the bus will explode. 2014 will mostly be spent at a high pace, with almost no time for reading for pleasure as I will be studying for the CPA exam. I love the thrill of a challenge, but whats the point when you are trying to become a really good accountant that wants to get out of accounting. Whats funny is that I don’t really know what I truly want. I want to be the Slumdog millionaire, not for the money, but for Latika, the girl who wanted the guy with iron will, moral resolve and the conviction of an crusader. I want to be tested, and I want odds fucking stacked against me. I want to see If I could survive everything Ive experienced last year without a corporate expense account. Ok that last line was a joke, but what I try to emphasize is the journey. I have come to realize that alot of my friends, although they have lives just as complex as mine, dont have to worry about their own survival, which is a blessing from the clouds without a silver lining. I have reduced myself to the teachings of David Allen, The Pomodoro Tomato, Working out during my lunch hour and coming up with realistic excuses as to why I cant make it out tonight in order to get rich. Im focused, but for what. If you don’t have goals, you are coasting. You will probably become an unwitting corporate stooge to someone else, someone with specific goals in life and a plan to realize them.
I realize this all well, but what if your goals are not on schedule with your daydreams. What if your soul searching had nothing to do with what you do for the the lions share of the daylight hours. What if you have literally have to compartmentalize your life between “work” and “personal” like how you order food at Panda Express. This really is no way to live and there is the other side of the coin. The bloggers who want you to “live your passion”
Its simple. My passions of Basketball and Rap have historically not jived well with my demographic. I want to be Kendrick Lamar but Anaheim is but 20 miles East from the CPT and my spectacular upbringing was a BlessingWriting though, I think I can make something good enough to read, but there is the issue that I wouldnt feel authentic trying to tell my story, or write instructions when I know I will be compensated (Monetary) for my effort. I would love to just do it all for free, all day, and come home to a bag of money.
Middle Ground: Cultivate passion for something, although its not childlike, we can construct around the x and y axis of what I love to do and what you need done without either of us behaving manufactured. This might work.
Fuck it my time is up.
Id like to end this ride with a parable which helps me reassess, and set cruise control at 55.
This story is my inspiration to slow down, reassess, and get real about how I want to live life.
An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.
The Mexican replied, “only a little while. The American then asked why didn’t he stay out longer and catch more fish? The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs. The American then asked, “but what do you do with the rest of your time?”
The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siestas with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine, and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.” The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat, you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing, and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually New York City, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”
The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this all take?”
To which the American replied, “15 – 20 years.”
“But what then?” Asked the Mexican.
The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part. When the time is right you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich, you would make millions!”
“Millions – then what?”
The American said, “Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siestas with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos.”
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