Let's be clear. In part, I have what I would consider to be one of several "dream jobs". I'm not travelling the world eating and writing, yet. I'm not the NFL commissioner or a winery owner, yet. But I get to work in the video game industry. I get to set my own hours. Work from any where in the world, mostly. I'm given near complete autonomy, no baby sitting, no micromanagement. I have a wonderful boss that trusts me. I get to work with designers. And producers. And engineers. The lot of which are immensely passionate, enthusiastic, good people. I work with people I enjoy and get this, some are even friends, even outside of work far from the bowels and clutches of the working office. I'm spoiled. I'm rotten. I'm that miserable bastard of a kid that gets to slag one of his passions and get paid well for it.
So, this is in no way a reflection of my current job, my current employer, my current co-workers or otherwise. Nor is this a reflection of the majority of people I've worked with in past roles. What this is, is an observation I've made in the ten or so years of working in corporate America. I ask this of you my occupational work force friends.
Does no one want to work hard any more?
When did lackadaisical become acceptable? The apathy and resignment to complacency is simply stunning. Too many cherish the job where a few hours work is good enough. Content to sit and surf, idle time spent web surfing and messaging and tweeting and water-cooling. Pilfering away the day like it's acceptable, even normal. Parked in a chair content to collect money for virtual grabass with a pension built on the back of sinister mediocrity and complacency. I don't get it.
I want to work. I want to work so hard my head explodes and my eyes bleed. I want to Learn. I want to Grow. I want to be taught by those that came before me. I want to help. I want to dominate shit and get shit done. And I want to be humble when I do so. I'm amazed at how little of this I've seen. It's the exception, not the rule.
No matter what you do, whether you clean teeth, write books, scrub urinals, or fly planes - work hard and care. In the end, those that do, win. And they win daily.
Took three weeks. Give or take. Really, who's counting.
I do feel a foreigner again. Writing is like those yesterdays, where I seldom belong. I now just seem to bounce around to my own whim, taking photos and enjoying the rare calorie. Or two. The heat, it does something wicked in these parts of southern Spain.
Spain has changed. Things really are different now. New facades and public works. Scaffolds and workers adorning all that was known. It took me days to find my old stomping grounds and what I have found and recognized have been, well, what a let down. I should have known. Suppose I did know.
Or is it, I've changed. That's it really. And the ability to revisit my past is a bit naive. A let down I've been. I suppose I'll concede as much.
I've seen some new shit, surely. And honestly, I should have know never to dictate to the road anything. No demands or preferences. Futility.
Dancing around my old buros and areas again bring me back for a moment as a young asshole. A kid again. Enjoyment. Wistful. It's all smiles. Took me three weeks but an acknowledgement that my youth is gone. Well spent, surely. But gone. Kinda' neat.
I remember why I do this. If nothing else, we see eye to eye. I find love and harmony in the road. In the unknown. I'm bound. Vulnerable. Scared. Happy. Myself. Always ready for the next round. I go places because place gives me more love and hope and smiles than I have found elsewhere. Endless possibility and beauty. Can I say as much about home?
Tomorrow I transition. From a wonderful experience inside the Xbox LIVE family back to my home. The road. And where that road takes me, like so many other good things in life, is still undetermined. But I will be back on the road. Somewhere. Solo in some foreign country doing the only thing I know how. Probably with a cigar. Probably with a glass of wine. But always with wonder and always with love.
For now though, I'd like to say thank you. I'm not one for good-byes. They depress the hell out of me and nothing is really ever good bye, not really. But I'm always one to be thankful. And to say thank you to the people that made this last year a joy and a lesson. This wonderful foray into the world of Xbox would not have been possible without a gauntlet of accomplices, a venerable cast of characters that gave me a shot, showed me the ropes, taught me well, oiled my wings, and had the trust to turn me loose and let me dominate. There are many. And I thank you all. I really mean that. Thank you.
I would be remiss if I did include two such thank you's.
I want to thank Trixie360 for giving me the opportunity. There are few people in this world as crazy as I, and only one crazy enough to hire me. Trust without cause. And for that I'm thankful.
And The Mighty KP. Ropes shown. Shots fired. Invaluable. Teflon. The ambassador and pillow of intelligent rage. You taught me well. I thank you.
Without you, there is no me. Stay well my friends. All of you. I'll see you in a few. It's time to go home.
I'm always amused by the no-carb crowd and their baconnaise and super fi protein bars. Content in their no carb ways after reading the latest cosmo.
Meanwhile, Rice, the staple of an Asian diet for 12,000+ years and somehow they just had it all woefully wrong. If only they had cosmo. Those poor silly peoples.
Been a little while since I've seen a quality old school show with the sounds of what made Seattle famous.
For those that know, you know. You just get it.
In a few weeks I will give my thanks and say good bye to Xbox. She's been my home for a good year and she's done nothing but treat me well. And I mean that.
What's next? Your guess is as good as mine. India? Spain? Argentina? I suppose an unwritten future is apropos. I love an interlude of the unknown. Where's the satisfaction in knowing my tomorrow?
Life is full of bends. Expected. Unexpected. I love them all. And I'll venture around them all, just to see what's around the bend.
I let letters down. Maybe I've just moved on from writing. I dunno.
But what I haven't moved on from in 12 years is taking photos. The natural progression of curiosity and just wanting to get better and grow at something I had natural interest in.
So letters, I'm sorry. It was me, not you. Don't take it personally. Maybe we can make up with a kiss someday. I hope so. Until then, the clover and I, we've got a date with doing photos properly.
Don't mind us.
In ouath token hell but it appears we are off and running. I can see the light.