When in doubt, try to blow a hole in the universe and see what happens

woods cellophane

woods cellophane

Growing up I had a friend that was always willing to get into trouble with me. There was never a question whether we were allowed to do it, if our parents would approve or if it was legal — he was just always willing. I spent many evenings at his house watching television and when I had a party I considered it a personal insult he didn’t RSVP the second he was invited. We were quite the pair.

When I was at university my best friend was also willing to get into all sorts of trouble with me and we did get into trouble, some we sorta looked for but most of them found us. I found it amusing that if something odd and completely insane would happen to anyone on the planet it would find a way to be us. We tried to avoid it but it always happend and we had the best time always.

Last year I was in Jordan and I met a fanstic girl who again was willing to get into all sorts of trouble with me, we had a blast as we observed the world around us the subtlities of the country and its people and breathtaking beauty that it has to offer. It’s a very brutal lesson when you see the world, all your preconcived ideas shatter away without buffer. When you see enough of the world it bare and unapologetic just how real it all is. Reality, she is a real bitch.

LinkedIn told me today that it was three years to the day since I started my current job, yes I have a real job, I am not paid to get on plane (I wish). I think LinkedIn meant it as some congratulations and surely people congratulated me. However one friend said to me it was time to leave my prison. He said: “All you have is work, surely that’s depressing”. Is it?

My Prison.

Myself and a friend that used to work me used to joke about stockholm syndrome, according to him I had it the worse. See it was never case of whether or not I wanted to leave, it was a case of my seeming inability to. It’s funny that we classify work as a prison, my father and one of his closeth friends are convinced I enjoy working so much and it is the reason I still don’t have my PhD. The later is true, but I think there is a fine line between loving a job so much to dedicate every waking moment to it and having no choice.

So back to my prison, I wish to pose a question: how do you tell the difference? Am I held hostage by a notion or do I find fufillment in nothing else. I love my job but it doesn’t seem to want to get into trouble with no matter what.

I don’t think your job is a prison unless you cage yourself in, I thought about it. I think the problem that currently exists here is that while I had my friends that made every day fun by willing to break rules with me and have a blast doing — something key is missing here. All those friends and times where periods where I was trying to blow a hole in the universe and risk everything becasue that was who I was, the risk taker who was never afriad to speak up who dare to think up the impossible. I was the girl who when I didn’t like something I said and when I didn’t want to do something because I disagreed I wouldn’t. No one ever made feel less than I was and I retained my voice.

I didn’t have one thing that consumed all my waking moments, I had serveral things that mattered and I cared about a lot of things. I was the girl for who maturity wasn’t the amount of time I accepted faith but the times I was willing to make a difference. I cared about women issues on more than an academic level, it mattered to me and I did something it about it. For me one well done never nagated the 10 horrid and unnecessary bullying that came before. I am the girl who threaten a much older and bigger boy because he pushed my big sister into a door that resulted in an injury. I am the girl that refuses to be in a prsion.

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