"Le Job" - A tale of eurphoric depression.

Paradoxes exist. Fact.

Day & Night, Summer & Winter, Heaven & Hell (although let's stick with absolutes shall we), Ant & Dec, Chalk & Cheese. They are everywhere...permeating the fabric of existence and creating an elusive balancing act that keeps us all trotting along clueless in a bubble of ambivalence - happy that the world is working the way it should.

It is an inherent need within humankind - although we may be sometimes up and sometimes down, we cannot have one without the other.

This annoys me.

Take le job as an example. There is a fundamental feeling within the post university classes (a few of which I am acquainted with) that a job is a job. You do it out of necessity. Whether it inspires or you or not is irrelevant. You need money. Job = money. Money = something resembling happiness. Life is complete. Cue welcome mat and 3 wheeled buggy with room for 2.5.

I resent that MY job, and I stress MY job, thrives on paradox. When it's good, I love it. I have even been known to proudly voice it's greater parts at parties. However, when it's bad, it's truly mind numbingly dreadful and unfortunately this is most of time. It's the moments of euphoria that I desperately cling to, convincing myself that the 9 to 5 is worth it, that the depression of sardine-d tubes and sweaty armpits is all ok, because just around the corner is another blip of joy, a punctuation of splendour that makes you forget the rest.

My patience is dwindling. A new dawn beckoning? But then money. I need things...right?

So here's hoping that someone, somewhere has a job that fulfills them completely, that they look forward to with zest, are utterly passionate about, committed to AND...pays better than a leper in a brothel.

If there's one, there's hope for us all.

Smile please, you're not a shit after all.

It's Monday. I'm feeling inspired. Or is that the coffee.

This will brighten your day.