Lately, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned probably every time I’ve written in this thing recently, it’s been uni pain season. What that brings with it is a dramatic increase in procrastination, which leads to me being constructive in all kinds of ways I’d usually never pursue. So anyhow, lately I’ve been reading up on my philosophy jibber-jabber, reading a lot of theological and philosophical papers and other things like that, I’ve even spent many hours reading what are, for the better part, one-sided over-dramatised rants on e2. So resultantly (which I was shocked to find was actually a word when I checked the dictionary), I’ve been doing a lot of that introspective jazz, thinking, considering things and all that waffle, and the one real conclusion I’ve come to is that I’m pretty damnwell happy with who I am and what I’ve done up to this point. Which personally I found was a pretty damn shocking revelation, but one which I’m pretty smiley about. Which isn’t to say I’ll give myself any chance of becoming complacent, after all, I do have a lot of (what are for the most part quite secretive) plans for the next couple of years, not to mention the concepts I’m working on for the longer term.
Personally I’ve worked out that not trying to plan anything solid more than a year in advance is a pretty good system for me. Of course this rules out a lot of financially responsible decisions (that I’m sure my parents would be appalled at me passing up on one hand, but supportive on the other) like home loans, stock investments and all other manner of things that involve mature levels of committment. But I’m quite happy to live with that, I have no plans on being a rich old man, the idea doesn’t interest me at all really. But my 1-year-max-plan scheme seems to help me stop setting myself ridiculously hefty long term goals and other things I’m not real fussed about. I have no problems chucking things into the “I wouldn’t mind thinking about doing this stuff in the next few years” bucket and perusing through it reasonably often, but when it comes down to it, I get the feeling that giving myself ultimatums like “I want to be on a six figure salary by 30” or “I want to have a $40,000 car before I’m 25” and such and such (warning, cliché approaching), just aren’t me.
Polywaffling aside though, I guess a consice summary would be something like I’m down with being me, and I like the idea of doing what I’m gonna do and seeing where I end up.
The next quandary I find myself part of involves nutting out whether the capitalist prize of supposed riches can lure me back into corporate whoring again, or whether I set a bearing for begging for a crappy part time job and working towards something that I think I might like a lot better than the whole ‘suit’ bag, but which have no guarantees of. Of course, this will have to wait for a while until I finish dealing with the most impending of my proverbial horde of uni assignments.