Waking Up a Workingman
Ruminations on my transition from College to Office
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I wake up at seven. I have a job. I like my job. I like where I work and enjoy the day-to-day activities I must undertake as a part of my job. It doesn’t bother me.
In fact, I am happy after a long time. I finally feel I am in resonance with something that my soul is in sync with doing. As Naval Ravikant said, “Find work that feels like play.” I did! It is one of the few things I am proud of in my life. Few things. I wish I had more things to be proud of. Like what exactly? I don’t know, perhaps having felt “young”? Taking the seat at my office at nine-thirty, I can’t believe I am an adult. But I have to! The monitor is right in front of me. My colleagues are sitting around me. The centralized cooling is giving me chills despite my wearing a jacket. And the office smells like office, or should I say coffee?
Every day, I feel this sensation: a void in my heart, pressure from the outside world for challenges that I am definitely not ready for, and the fear of having grown up too fast, knowing I have “missed out on being young.”
What do I mean by that? It’s not “not having had drugs, weed or spending time partying”; it’s not having…
