UnMotivationalPosters

Here. Do gaze upon this lovely image for a few moments while I think. Take in the light and the shapes and the colors. No, this isn’t a trick.

You'll shit brix

I’m done thinking and I got nuthin. I’ve been thinking for days. I got a classic case of what they like to call “writers block” and My brain is all stopped up like nobody’s business. It’s super-lame and I would like nothing more than to get out of it and finish my crappy novel. Seriously.

In the stead of having something interesting, intriguing, or illuminating to say I’ll share a random thought with you. There’s a whole lot of importance placed on producing and performing and not enough on just existing and in enjoying life. Isn’t that sad? People work 50 weeks a year to get 2 weeks off. 5 days a week to have a 2-day weekend. You got guys with kids who can’t hardly see them because they’re too busy working their asses off to make sure they have a place to live.

That’s fucked up.

I most certainly did not start off intending to write this rant. In fact, my original plan was to dash off like a paragraph and then take my happy ass to bed but I didn’t really achieve that, you see.

Back to my rave here. Why do Americans (and other cultures of course but I happen to live in the US) take success to mean the physical or financial or social trappings of working themselves until they haven’t anything left? I’m not saying at all that hard work is unwarranted or that everyone should become a couch potato. But whatever happened to just being able to enjoy life? Why does someone have to ration their vacation days to enjoy a free Wednesday morning once a season? When did it become a badge of pride to work as many hours overtime as you do in a week? It’s necessary for so many, and that is precisely the problem. An entire society of people for whom true free time is restricted to the very lucky or the very, very unlucky. That’s some sick shit, dawg.

I get to work at home and this puts me smack in the realm of the very lucky. I’ve done the 80 hour workweek before so I know the drive to success. It can even be addictive. All those merit badges for working your fingers to the bone. Nowadays I can go outside at some random time of the morning and enjoy it. I wish everyone had that luxury. There’s plenty about the States that’s screwed up and this is a big one. Maye it’s screwed up all over the entire world.

Or hell, maybe I’m the screwed up one. Just doesn’t seem right or fair. I bet you cavemen didn’t work all damn day. They might have had to be busy and vigilant but I bet they got to chill sometimes. Any cavemanologists out there who might know, let me know. For now, I’m going to my secret laboratory, deep in the bowels of my evil lair, to cook up the magic formula for enjoying life while on the chain gang.