Work Any Way You See It

I've decided that no matter how noble the professions are towards the act of doing something in exchange for a pay packet, it is work.

They call it work because one must perform certain acts -- liked, lewd or otherwise -- in order to obtain the currency that affords the perception of a better life. That might work out to a better roof over the head than a corrugated sheet, a better bed than one of sand and straw, a better perception of oneself as that of an economically viable individual, whatever floats your proverbial boat.

It is, ever was, and ever will be the biggest corporate lie, most likely invented by secret company satanists, for employees to tell themselves that what they do under the auspices of a larger profit-seeking organism is a deed done for the love of it, and that they would do so also and only for a vague notion of fresh air, sunshine, beer and corresponding burp in the face.

If such passion did indeed rule the world, there would be no need for unions; no point to creating beauty for its own sake; no rationale for a vacation. So I resent anyone who perpetuates the lie, I resent the lie, I wholly reject it. I wish I didn't have to give up time to work. If time stood still while I worked, and I could somehow obtain the means to enjoy time in a vacuum so that in its free-running state I could use it for other activities, I would do it, as would any sane person.

The harsh, uncut and E! True Hollywood story is this: We work because we need to feel better about our situation in life. We work because we fear the alternatives of a life without motivation -- and therefore pay offs. We work because we would otherwise languish in abject misery about not being able to afford our next object of desire, whether that be a Blackberry or a cup of something caffeine free.

So we toil, and we tell ourselves that if at least our paid responsibilities feel less like a pain in the derriere, then we are somehow less denied of time we would otherwise put towards more pleasurable pursuits; such as, say, luxuriating in an over-abundance of unaccounted-for time.

But time is the depleted resource that can never find its equal in bonuses, benefits and BMWs. Time is the thing neither art nor science nor anything in all the myriad planets in our solar system can replace. Time defies commodification, so therefore cannot be truly be sold for any kind of humanly generated price. At best we can attempt to barter it for a better set of possessions of a near-enough value.

To confuse what we do for money as a qualitative use of an irreplaceable resource is nothing short of sin. But enough whinging. I have work tomorrow...