Work

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So there have been a few dreams and aspirations floating around in my head over the years. I have tried on for size more careers than many and less than few. Why do I bring this up, you ask? It is on my mind, and the first thing I have felt interested in writing in a while (all writing efforts, you see, are spent in rewriting at present) and like counting lovers, until you put them down on paper, it is hard to see fully.

I’ve been a cook, a housekeeper, delivery driver, and an aid. A body piercer, health care technician, a singer and a drunk. I have built mountains out of cases of beer, and later, convinced folks that they needed mountains of beer so others could build them.

Slinging booze, both Behind and in front of the bar held my interest for a long time; a good time to say the least, but not good enough. The marketing director, an events coordinator, a retail manager, and a dad.  The latter, probably the most rewarding of them all.

An essayist, then an airer of dirty laundry. I’ve driven big trucks, and trucks that were not so big. the open road, sunrise to sunset. I’m a novelist; the writer of a book no one has ever yet read, and still I search for that thing that will make work more like play.

I am on the cusp of two degrees, completely unrelated of course, and yet I search. I’ve realized recently that it isn’t the job that will make me happy, but the search. You see, for me it is having a dream that makes it exciting to wake up in the morning.  I’m in love with the process of becoming.

After reading through this short admission of successes and failures, I realize one thing:

I want to be the Dos Equis guy. The most interesting man in the world.