Working for Myself

December 14, 2012

We see it all the time: friends who have obligations that keep them from fulfilling their potential in the workforce. Teenagers find themselves pregnant and needing money; instead of finishing high school and moving on to university, they must wait tables (or worse) to feed another mouth. A victim of a near-fatal car accident or unexpected medical condition burdens his family with hospital bills and long-term care. These are facts of life, not just in the US, but the world at large (medical bills to a lesser extent). And I find myself questioning my current occupation.

I’m surrounded by people working for something, or someone. The man from Oakland taking on double shifts 6-7 days a week with no breaks in preparation for a newborn. The middle-aged single woman sending a paycheck home to feed those who cannot work themselves. The new mother finding time to work and spend time with her son. Then, there’s me. I have no higher purpose, no reason I should be subjecting myself to work, that, to be honest with myself, is simply beneath me. I say that not to imply I think less of others who go into such jobs, but knowing I’m capable I’m more.

I don’t have to settle. The only mouth I have to feed is my own. The only bed I have to provide is one in which I sleep. I have options I know many my age have, but many don’t. While this gives me incredible freedom, it doesn’t exactly provide a grand purpose to my actions. To date, I have yet to determine in what direction my life is going, and having a parent or child who needs me would provide that, albeit at a cost.

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