'The quality of life' vs 'The eternal pursuit of the almighty buck'.
This has long been a fascination of mine. Probably because, as a born and bred Capetonian, I appear to be sans ambition and everyone thinks I'm quite happy as long as I make just enough money to keep me in Piz Buin and cheap cocktails.
This conundrum has been raising it's ugly head on a regular basis (every time I visit my dear ol' mum) since I got horribly overqualified. I chose something quite daunting (to normal mortals) to study, only because I was forced by society (and my dear ol' mum) to do something. Let me tell you: very few kids of 18 years old know what they want to commit to for the rest of their lives, let alone are able to focus on anything beyond getting shitfaced 'n' shagged at their earliest convenience. I was no different. I still subscribe to these youthful aspirations. They keep me young. So young, in fact, that a vast horde of my friends are significantly younger than I am. (I don't get to hang out with the "Ed Bundy - Married With Children" sect that much anymore.)
And I have been mildly bemused to find out that I am in fact not earning as much as some of them. Whilst I have purposely chosen a life and landscape of leisure something in me cannot help but be a little jealous. But then I realise that this fact alone does not make me the monumental loser and waste of life my dear ol' mum thinks I am. I do not lack ambition, see.
In fact the opposite is very true. My main ambitions include NOT living and working on or near a mine dump 1000s of kms away from my family and friends. After that, I'd like a life in which I have enough to time to pursue my musical interests and occasionally smell the roses. Check.
I choose not to have a smart phone. This does not make me a hippie. It merely means that I am not a slave to the internet.
I have spent ALL my money on guitars and other musical instruments. I see this as my Retirement Annuity. When I'm eventually too decrepit to play these instrument - that bring me so much joy - I'll frame them and charge people entrance to view them in the museum/mausoleum that I call home. (I can't sell them, they all have names.)
Here are some magical words to ponder, as you sit on the loo, or whatever it is you do while reading this bloody blog - you're certainly NOT working, unless you're doing research for a psych paper...
YOU ARE NOT A MACHINE.
YOUR NATURAL GENETIC DESIGN DOES NOT TOLERATE 2-4HRS OF TRAVEL PER DAY, 8-12HRS OF SLAVE LABOUR 5-6DAYS A WEEK
FOR WHATEVER MONETARY COMPENSATION
ON 5-6HRS OF SLEEP
IN A SYSTEM BUILT ON PENALISTIC PRINCIPLE
AND A LIFE UNDER JUDGEMENTAL SURVEILLANCE.
STRESS, HARASSMENT, CONSTANT FINANCIAL WORRIES, FEAR AND A SENSE OF INADEQUACY DESTROYS THE HEALTH OF ANY HUMAN.
THIS IS A SCIENTIFIC FACT.
SO WHY IS IT WE ACCEPT AND TOLERATE A SYSTEM THAT IN ACTUAL REALITY DEMANDS THAT YOU ERASE YOUR NEEDS AND IN EFFECT COMMIT A SLOW JOYLESS SUICIDE FOR SOMEONE ELSE'S PROFIT?
YOU HAVE A CHOICE.
STOP PRETENDING YOU DON'T.
I have no idea who wrote that. Use it, don't use it. Here in Awesomeville, I think I'll get my arse home asap and crack open a cold beer, tend to my garden and make the music that I love with people I actually give a fuck about.
NDGD: "I simply must, like [name deleted], sign off my mails thusly: 'Hoping this finds you lonely, naked and trapped at the bottom of a well.' "
Spread The Love. Badda Boom Badda Bing!