I Think I’m Hungry
For a long time, I’ve been selling myself short. Since I couldn’t figure out what to do in college, and never finished, I’ve compromised many things to try proving myself to employers and holding down decent jobs.
That’s worked out, in that I have always been able to get decent-paying jobs where I benefited them and they, well — they paid me. I usually found ways to get training or learn a ton of things on-the-job, which has certainly always been a plus.
This type of employment has not worked out, however, when it comes to self-actualization. I guess I can’t blame anyone but myself. I’ve always been preparing myself, constantly learning and exercising, waiting for opportunity to knock at the door so I could answer eagerly and finally get my “Success” badge.
In most of my jobs, I saw the potential for great opportunity, but my employers did not see it. They were not visionaries, and they weren’t able to grasp ideas I brought to them once I got tired of waiting. I guess those are the types of employers who hire people without degrees or something, so it’s the bed I’ve made.
Once it sets in that my jobs are just that — jobs — I end up seeking fulfillment in other ways. I stab randomly at various hobbies I may have a passing interest in. I experiment with different areas of my life, trying to figure out what I’m missing, where the utopian horizon is that I should be striving for. When those experiments affect relationships, the effects are nearly catastrophic. There clearly is a separate god for fools.
For 18 years, I’ve been laid back on purpose, trying not to take myself too seriously. I’ve always shunned the thought of being goal-oriented, because that just wasn’t “Zen” enough. Quite literally, plans and goals seemed very Owl-like, and not very Pooh-like, so it wasn’t my thing.

Pooh, the "Uncarved Block"
I never got hungry enough to want to change that. People hired me, I felt validated, see the non-college boy rubbing elbows with the big-wigs, until he feels stifled and under-utilized and quits with about 60 seconds notice, moving on to the next mis-managed organization.
It’s a shame, because with even a loosely-defined goal, I could be light-years ahead of where I am now. By now, I could have contributed more significantly than just some little cog helping some inept machines move along a little smoother from time-to-time.
It’s okay. I’m getting hungry now. I’ve put together a plan that should really move me forward, but it’s loose enough to keep from throwing Pooh into a frenzy.
Wish me luck.






