Yeah. I've been listening to the Smiths recently. I apologize, I just couldn't help myself. It's almost a perfect title. Say what you will about Morrissey himself, yeah, the man's a complete dickhead, but goddamn, the Smiths were pretty awesome.
Well, another 12 days in a row working. We're on indefinite overtime. So yeah, kind of sucks. My body is achy as shit right now, and the calluses on my feet from my boots just hurt more and more. Actually shaved off a bunch of dead skin. Gross, I know, but I treat my feet like I treat my eyes: I do not have any more, so I try to take care of them.
Well, I was trying to read Juneteenth by Ralph Ellison (good book, if you're unfamiliar with Ellison, start with his Magnum Opus Invisible Man. Not the HG Wells one, but a social metaphor about the African-American experience in the 1930s. I know, you're like "GD, I'm not black!" Trust me, it's a great book. It's not so much an great African-American novel as as a great American novel) during break yesterday? Or Thursday? I can't remember exactly, because my days are starting to flow together pretty badly. Anyways, I read during my breaks, because it helps me to decompress and get my mind off of stuff and gives me something to ponder until my next break. So, several of my co-workers were talking about all the overtime we (as a collective group) work. I was largely ignoring it, before one of them asks me how much I'm working. I tell them it's been 48 hours, but i'm on 12 days in a row. They kind of laugh, say they're working 60 (they normally work three 12 hour days, so they're working five 12 hour days a week) and say I've got it easy. I try to remind them, to no avail, that they still get days off, where I don't if I were to work almost as many hours, but whatever. Then, one of them says "at least the extra money makes it worth it." That causes me to pause.
I hate money. Money can be a pervasive, corrupting force. I know, I know, I started this blog for monetary purposes, but, gentle reader, I kept it going out of enjoyment (still haven't seen any money, not that it matters). I am a simple man of simple pleasures. Give me a library card, a television, a video game machine, and the occasional video game, and I can live a very content life. I know, I need money to pay for things like taxes to cover said library card, electricity to power my vidya and tv, and to put a roof over those electronics so they don't break in the rain. I like having extra money, it is nice, do not get me wrong. But, I do not like money being a motivator. I value my free time, more than the 16.50 it is work to the company I work for (time and a half for overtime). I'd rather spend that time doing things I like, doing things I want to do, accomplishing things. Now, we all know the old phrase that "Money doesn't by happiness" and we know that's pretty much bullshit. I think of it this way: Excessive money doesn't buy happiness. If I could do the 40 hours a week (with occasional overtime, I know it's necessary occasionally) and make enough money to live comfortably (apartment, decent car, able to go out (not excessively), splurge occasionally when I feel it is necessary, I call that happiness. Mo' Money, Mo' problems. Get time to pursue things I want to do, and still contribute. So, that's a content life. Throw some bitches in there for good measure, of course.
In case you have not heard this one before, I have a new blog. And it's already a story deep. Check it out. I'm going to be plugging it forever. Get on in here. There's more stuff to come in there.