Steve’s post on kids and homework made me think of something that had nothing to do with either kids or homework.
It made me think about how many people are comfortable viewing a job as something to be despised.
You’re taught, from family, from friends, from television, from rotten cubicle-slave posters that say things like “When you die you won’t wish you’d spent more time at work” that you’re supposed to suffer through your job for the sake of the few moments you can snatch to yourself for whatever enjoyment you can squeeze out of the stones that are your days. You’re supposed to hate your job, bitch about your boss, count the hours until Friday afternoon, dread Monday morning. We are conditioned not to enjoy what we do for money.
Mainly Steve’s post just made me think of how I’ve always hated that fucking poster: Nobody ever said on their deathbed that they wished they’d spent more time at work. On my deathbed I’m gonna wish I spent more time EVERYWHERE: with my friends, with my family, with my ferrets, and yes, writing that really good story I’ve always had in my head. Of the great regrets in my life, some of them do have to do with my work. And I don’t feel bad about that. We don’t have a really long time on this earth. What I did should have mattered enough to get inside me and knock me around. Otherwise I should have done something else.
Do you love what you do? What is it? Why?