Hit liquor

Toe,
I hear your anger. You sound like you are really going through a time of disillusionment. I can relate to a lot of what you say, and have felt similar things over time. I honestly have lost my desire to make gobs more money than I already make, except when I start to feel insecure. When I think about getting sick or retiring or something, I seriously think "It would be better if I made twice as much as I do now, then I would have enough not to worry at all."

This is total bullshit, of course, because the more money you make, the more your expectations of what you can afford rises, and you end up spending the same proportion of your wages that you always spend, thus increasing your sense that you need to make more. At least that's how it works for me. Starbucks coffee? It's not expensive at all, why are people whining? Premium gasoline? Only the best for my car! Another iPod? Of course, because I need something to watch movies on when I am traveling.

If I made half as much as I do now, chances are I might get that iPod, but it would be some big item that I saved for or that I charged and didn't pay off for a few months.

People I know who make more than me have the same kind of money problems that I have. They just seem to be doing better because the product that they purchase without thinking about it (i.e., for me, the new iPod or Starbucks every day) is something that is much pricier. But look, there they go spending the same proportion of their income that I am spending on frivolous shit. Everyone is doing this, at their own level, and everyone feels stressed out, as if they aren't making enough, and this feeling drives our whole economic system.

But anyway, back to what you are actually talking about. Being identified with your job. I think we were talking about this last year, about how you get older and you take work so much more seriously. It becomes part of your identity. it sounds like you just had that identification shaken, and you feel bitter because you had given something indefinable up when you began to identify so strongly with your job.

I have that thing up, too. I am not sure what it is, but I think it relates somehow to the desire for better things that I was just talking about, except maybe on a more spiritual level. When we are younger, there seem to be more options, or at least we don't rule them out as much. We dreamed about being rock stars, writers, engineers, editors, but all those things were somehow possible, and eventhough we chose the more practical paths, we figured "These are our day jobs."

then of course, the money started flowing, and we got into the cycle of buying shit, little things, but things that got progressively more expensive as we moved up the pay scale. And the further into this cycle we got, the more we took our jobs seriously. So those other options we played with, the dreamier ones, the ones that require more dues-paying, more dedication, those options began to close up in our minds.

But the truth is they are not closed, at least I hope they are not. We have just stopped believing they are options. And maybe they aren't entirely realistic options, given our financial and relational obligations now, but they are still at the very least avocations that can feed our spirits.

So my advice for both of us is to rock the fuck out in our spare time. It's at least worth a try.

(Which reminds me, where is that CD of your band?)

I hope you are doing better since you wrote this. I have been out of town on business. I am fucking exhausted. I hit the liquor last night with clients--not enough to obliviate my mind, but enough to make me pretty tired tonight.

I'm wishing you and El the best, and hope that you are working things through. Fighting is just another form of communication--at least that's what I tell myself. It's just a really unpleasant one.

I'll post a less rambly-preachy post soon. You be well, man.
Love,
E-word

Sarah Sitting

Hey man. I'm sitting here trying to work on my final project of my graduate school career, and smoking a cigar to keep awake. It's a Hemingway Short Story (That's literally the name of the cigar), so is not big enough to give me too much of a buzz, I hope at least.

It's been a tough couple of days, man. I'm changing projects under circumstances that are not great (I've been demoted, is probably the best way of stating the case), but I'm still on to help transition the new lead, which has been a test of humility. I busted my ass on this project with every intention of staying on to the bitter end, but I didn't do the best job. Two years of my life, two years of my identity spent on this job, and now I'm the goat and someone new is going to come in and finish the project. Fuck.

On top of this I'm fighting with El, and I'm just fucking beat. I feel like I understand things finally, and I wonder if I haven't made huge mistakes in my life. I understand what people mean when they say 'Work to Live', I think. Oh, I don't know. Everything in this world lets me down. Hell, everything in the world lets everyone down. I know I'm no different.

Like, I've been thinking how unimportant money is. I mean, really, there is a bare minimum required to live a decent life, and I make so much more than what that bare minimum is, it's not even funny, and I keep thinking I need to make more, and it's such bullshit. I have way more than I ever thought I would, and I want more, for what? For what? Don't get me wrong, I understand the importance of work and enjoying work, but nothing is black and white. Lets just take you and me. Both of us could literally lose everything right now, and still make out alright. We're able to find jobs in this economy, and could find a way to live. How important does that really make money? Do I need anything that I have? I have two cars, a mortgage, a Wii, fucking expensive shit everywhere, and if I lost it all, I'm not worse for wear, ultimately. Maybe I can't retire comfortably, but who fucking needs that, even. I mean, if I gave every penny I have right now away, it doesn't fucking matter. I'll still make my outrageous salary, I'll still find a place to live, and I'll still be able to get to work.

So what's the fucking point? You know how much of my identity has been placed in my job? For what reason? I'm so irked right now, I'm so angry at myself. Like, I have this way I think life has to be lead, and it's such a lie. Like, if I have children, do I really have to save hundreds of thousands of dollars for them to go to college? No, they could just go to community college, and go to state college and do just fine. Do I have to live in the right neighborhood? No, I don't want to live somewhere that is outwardly dangerous, but I don't have to strive for a million dollar house. Why? Why why why?

I just feel so let down, so deceived, so hurt, angry, bitter. I think of my fight with El yesterday, and I want to just grit my teeth. Why do we hurt one another so much? How much abuse can each of us withstand? I go through a day thinking I have my mate, my lobster or whatever, the love of my life, and then we scream at each other and I think what the fuck have I gotten myself into?

I look around my house and think that I don't really need any of this. I'd like to at least have the clothes on my back and my ipod just so I have something to listen to, but otherwise everything in this house could be burned down.

Or maybe I'm venting. Everything is a lie, there is no such thing as security. Everything will let you down. Not to get religious on you, but when Jesus says (I'm paraphrasing here) put down everything you have and follow me, it makes total sense, if you believe in Jesus and heaven. This fucking world has let me down. I compete, and want, and for what? What reward do I get? I don't get shit.

Destroying yourself makes sense, too. Drinking to oblivion, because what's the fucking point?

Man, I don't know what I'm going on about. Anyway, I don't know. I'll get back to this stupid pointless project and maybe drink myself to oblivion after I've accomplished something.

Love,

Toe