Thinking about quitting my job. Not that I can’t make a career out of cleaning toilets. Spending my life in a job, working for others. No control over my pay or hours. Waiting till the end of my life for some free time. Hoping that the free time comes with enough money and health to enjoy it. No guarantees I don’t drop dead on the job. Happened last year to an old-timer near retirement. Feels like gambling. So what are my options?
Just up and leave. This is ideal. I have money. I do, really. But it’s not a fear of poverty. Don’t need much. No love of TV, movies, takeout. No car, extreme drug habit, penchant for high-class hookers. I do have a responsibility I take seriously. Asked my girl to move in with me, been fantastic. No regrets. If I lost the roof over our heads I can’t begin to describe my guilt. And I’m not one to feel guilt. I don’t, really.
But I’m grateful. She wants me to be happy. That and she’s been saying for years how we need to go camping. Don’t think she means homelessness. It’s a financial security thing, but nothing is promised. So it’s still gambling.
Could work part-time.
A better idea. Just gotta get past the rent issue in my head. But it brings up a question.
Am I over thinking this?
The whole reason this blog exists is because I’ve spent so much time in my head. To get all the thoughts, the noise, outside is the point. So my actions aren’t crippled.
Didn’t I already use the suicide jumper analogy? Damn, gotta come up with something grander. Deep end of the pool? Head first into shallow water? What’s with the nautical references when it comes to the unknown?
The ocean still represents this great mystery. The future is no different. I don’t want a guide. Don’t want to know what the future holds, or what holds the future. So how long can I hold my breath?