We’re taught from a very early age that striving to work harder is the better way to live, the honest way to live, the *right* way to live. There is a societal fetish with work, but of course as a population we can’t admit this. We can’t all suddenly gather round and announce that working into oblivion is a fruitless fallacy that contributes nothing to us growing as humans on a collective or individual level. I’ve always wanted to know the end result of an activity whenI was young. What’s the end result (well not much really), why we learning this at school, what’s the point, why am I forced to live by working five days a week? You work hard, then what? A promotion? Then what? More hard work. Then what? What’s the end result? A wasted existence. I’ve never ‘got’ the point of working hard.
Nobody ever reaches the point where they say “ha, I’ve done all my work, I’m finished, excellent, I think I’ll stop now and have a nice cup of tea”. The few who do are normally entrepreneurs who get lucky with a single product and don’t particularly like working anyway; not the Richard Branson types who have a megalomanic need to continue buying up every conceivable product and service and slap VIRGIN on it. Really again, what’s the point? How’s that possibly doing any good for anyone? Even Branson, it’s not as if he needs the money (I think he might be a little mental, I mean, look at his grin).
Work is nothing but a distraction. One argument is that encouraging it is a way to keep the population occupied. Too tired to care about politics or question authority? Too busy to notice your rights being eroded? Never mind, you’re an honest person, you’re a hard working individual and you keep quiet and play the game. Shame you’re not going to get much out of it, but at least you won’t be a nuisance. Then again, the sad reality is that we have nothing else to do. Or at least, we believe this is the case. So work consumes our lives and we add false value to it, pretending that spending 40 hours a week behind a desk is somehow a worthwhile existence as your life ends one minute at a time.
I refuse to allow myself to believe that working is nothing more than a waste of time. There is a middle ground between dedicating your adult life to grafting and sitting around eating Cheerios whilst watching hotWomen Acknowledging the waste in your life can make you miserable, but at least it’s some form of resistance, and more importantly, it’s the first step to taking back what’s rightfully yours… your life.
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