StruckingFuggle wrote:I personally can't think of anything they'd pay me to do that I'd enjoy doing.
Then either you're a singularly miserable human being, or you haven't really tried very hard. In the end, if the former is true, then you're going to have to suck it up and do something that's not your ultimate ideal in order to fund your hobbies. The reality is that while the former may well be true, the latter is
certainly true.
And even if it was, it's still horribly tainted, to me, by all the principles of the matter that the part of my life that's my job (that holds hostage the rest of my life, because I need the money to survive, to do things like buy food and shelter and health; let alone make it a life worth keeping) isn't my own life, it's their life, as run managed me, but on their terms and in accordance with their whims.
I don't even know how to respond to this. Your life is your own. To survive, you can either choose to go out into the wilderness and survive on your wits alone, or you can operate within society and choose to provide a product or service that other people want. A job is purely providing a service that someone else is willing to pay for. You get to choose what service(s) you offer as well as the rate at which you're willing to offer it, whether as an individual to various clients (i.e. a contractor or consultant) or as an employee to an employer. The value of the particular service you offer depends on a great many factors, of course, which may well shape which service(s) you choose to offer. You're going to be at work only about 8 or 9 hours out of the day, normally, and the rest of your time is your own to do with as you see fit, whether it's earning more money or lying on your floor trying to find pictures in the texture of your ceiling. And even during that time you spend doing your job as an employee at an office, your life is still your own. That does not mean that you're absolved of the physical, mental, and emotional needs that you as an organism need to survive and flourish, but you still, for instance, choose whether the quality of your service is such that your clients (in most cases meaning your employer) approves.
And who you are, personally, doesn't matter. When you sit down to work, who you are becomes meaningless and of no consideration beyond what you bring and what you give them that they want versus how replaceable not you but merely your skill set is.
This is a very heavily spun, very embittered take on the matter, the kind of thing that's written primarily by people whose experience in the matter is limited to works of fiction, perhaps with the addition of the rantings of some angry ideologue. Even Eeyore couldn't come up with
that. Of course, this entire view is predicated on the assumption that life both
can and
should be bliss, and that bliss is found elsewhere, again an indication of someone whose perspective needs a little acquainting with the real world. Go ask some impalas on the serengeti how blissful and effortless their life is. You sound like a wealthy suburbanite goth freshman whose morose, immature, and shallow musings on pain and death and the emptiness of life and simultaneously amusing and exasperating to the adults in their life.
If you can find something you enjoy doing in the process of selling yourself day by day, that's great. I imagine it makes it somewhat bearable, but I'd have to drink myself into a stupor or start shooting up to ignore the rest of what I'm doing for work to be enjoyable, instead of a resented necessary chore, a punishment to endure before I can afford to retire and do both the things I enjoy, and because I want to do them for nothing more than my own sake, on my terms and in my idiom.
Give me utopia or give me death? You want a library full of books and a comfortable chair, right? Who do you think wrote those books? Who built those shelves? Who chopped down the trees, cut the wood, assembled the frame, wove the fabric, and upholstered that chair? You want to finish your degree, right? What about the people who built the school, the professors who teach you, the people who wrote the textbooks, the people who did the research to arrive at the knowledge in those textbooks, the people who produced the ink for those textbooks, the people who have to organize and run the school, the receptionists who answer your calls, the advisers who help you put together your schedule, the janitors who have to take out your trash while you're there? For fuck's sake, man, you
seriously need a wake-up call. You are someone whose thoughts of others is limited to the starry-eyed political idealism of pampered youth whose over-privileged world has revolved around themselves for so long they'd be dizzy and fall over if they stopped and took a real look at the world around them.
StruckingFuggle wrote:Raptor, so you're a programmer. You write code. But who truly owns your code? When you produce something, is it yours? Or is it theirs? Who profits from it? If it sells exceptionally well, do you make any extra money? If you want to use it for something on your own, even outside the company, or sell the fruits of your labor to someone else, can you? Or do they own what you make and are so proud to have created?
This kind of questioning only confirms everything I've said above. But in addition it also shows how little experience you have in the business world, especially as to negotiating compensation packages and understanding the value of the product or service you offer. You might as well come down hard on a janitor asking whether they get paid by the pound of trash they empty or something.