What a difference a day makes

Yeah. A huge difference.

24 little hours

It all adds up whether you are pursuing your love for 24 hours a day or trying to meet ridiculous deadlines or stay under the radar for the same duration. One energises you and the other enervates you. Just so amazing how interest is so important.

I love my job. This is how that Dr Suess poem began.

The Lost Dr. Seuss Book: I Love My Job

I love my job, I love the pay.
I love it more and more each day.
I love my boss; he/she is the best.
I love his boss and all the rest.

I love my office and its location.
I hate to have to go on vacation.
I love my furniture, drab and gray,
And the paper that piles up every day.

I love my chair in my padded cell.
There's nothing else I love so well.
I love to work among my peers.
I love their leers and jeers and sneers.

I love my computer and its software;
I hug it often though it don't care.
I love each program and every file,
I try to understand once in a while.

I'm happy to be here, I am, I am;
I'm the happiest slave of my Uncle Sam.
I love this work; I love these chores.
I love the meetings with deadly bores.

I love my job - I'll say it again.
I even love these friendly men,
These men who've come to visit today
In lovely white coats to take me away.

Hilarious, when I first read it. But looking back, the irony of it all.

I used to think I have understood the parable of the boiling frog. Perhaps I didn't really. Or I tried to think I did. Or... Or the fact that getting what some others perceive to be a disgusting amount of money from the company each month was a huge deterrent to even daring to let the thought of jumping out of the boiling water germinate in my mind. (To set the record straight, my pay is not a lot. Things have to be taken in proportion. I am just a humble civil servant, a serf, a being of lowly existence.)

So looking back, I had tolerated the heat well. Of course, I had bitched about it. In an earlier blog "Weapons of Math Destruction", I had talked about the malpractices of some people and was ordered to remove my blog. That's why Teflonman came about. A man who lets praise and insults slide off like water off a duck's back, even during high heat situations. This is akin to how teflon coating in pans keep food from sticking to the sides and bottoms during cooking.

Then recently, I realised that the Teflon tag was sort of negative in nature. Coincidentally, it was applied to Ronald Reagan first in 1983. Reagan is one of the US presidents I liked. In any case, the coinage is a recent one for him despite the fact that teflon was first invented in 1938. Still, I claim independence of thought, because I was entirely unaware of this usage until recently. I didn't do my literature review, of course. But it isn't an academic thesis that I am writing.

I digress.

Being my own boss in charge of my own destiny, I appreciate how little it takes to keep a person alive. Ok, to be fair, trained teachers are hard to starve. Opportunities are also available in the school system here to allow the lay folks to come in once a while for relief duties (such as keeping discipline in a class) when the incumbent is away for valid reasons. These pay rather well, if you live a life of an ordinary man and not a king.

But honestly, one can never make enough money. And, perhaps it is really age catching up with me, money cannot buy happiness. Worse, suffering misery does not definitely get you money either. It helps when the money you make helps to alleviate the misery you are feeling. Or, should it be: it helps when the misery you suffer helps to get you the money you desire? I honestly don't know. Different people view money differently. Just like I view food.

I love my money. I love money. Unfortunately, money does not really love me. My money always makes me tempted to spend it. It must be a love-hate relationship. So, I often empty out my wallet. Fortunately, for me, I do try and get the money back by working really hard.

Why this post? Simply because Fraser (I have still yet to figure out what T. in T. F. stands for. Maybe Terrible? Tyrannical? Timothy? Nah, he doesn't look like a Timothy to me. Thomas? Terry?) asked what (happiness) drugs I am taking and if I had bought it from the streets or some peddler.

Honestly, you are your own and your best medicine. Being true to yourself will eventually lead you to the path of happiness. It is an irony but for me, giving up my living got me back my life in return.

24 little hours. Thankfully, I get to spend them in a gladful fashion now.