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03/06/2003 Entry: ""Reclining Profits""
It's a grey day outside, and despite the grey news of a possible job loss, I'm above the clouds where it's clear. Anyway, it's one of my seemingly endless string of part-time jobs where I have a particular special needs client spend a couple of nights a week at the house. He charms my roommates while occasionally tweaking my patience, but all in all it's easy work.
His domestic status is changing and I had thought that I could stay on providing respite, but the chicken-faced wenchling that'll be keeping him apparently wants to farm out my job to someone in her coop. I'm not really that bitter but she has never liked me much in the first place, which is fine. What isn't fine is that this change will hurt the client because I'm also his job coach and friend, and I've poured untolled hours of building trust and teaching responsibility into him. He functions on a five year level and has so much potential for growth if given consistency and opportunity.
But somehow I know that, despite the impending financial setback and having less chances to help the client out, something else will open up and things won't be so bad. I'm doing better at managing my finances, meager though they may be, and even with car payments soon to be dripping from my fiscal veins, some minor lifestyle adjustments will keep me from disasterous scenarios.
It would be nicer all around if we didn't have to deal with money at all. I wish it were a fiction. Not that I think it can't be useful, but it's my primary stressor, and the Earth's primary stressor. Most people onboard this big blue spaceship live with much less than we in America, and their poverty and hunger is for the sake of our top of the line automobiles and quarter pound cheeseburgers. It's a top heavy world and it can't teeter like this forever.
I don't mind working, it's just having those little symbols, those "bio-survival tickets" in trade for my energy. So, rather than running of to an organic commune or Marxist utopia, I think I'll just try to reinvent what money means to me and what kind of money to avoid or attract. How can I make it do genuinely good things for me, like keeping me healthy, and at the same time make it steady the wobble of global economic inequity? Ultimately, I suppose, the stuff doesn't really matter. You can't buy a sunrise or a birdsong, and the Beatles were right on about what else it fails to procure. What matters is how much we desire it, and what we do with that desire when we get it... or what we do when we don't. When money talks, maybe people should listen to something else.
The grey day has gone black now, and that's something I really can profit from.
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