OK, this title came to mind, and immediately I remembered a song from the soundtrack of the 80’s movie “The Jewel of the Nile” (which was an awful sequel to a better movie called “Romancing The Stone”) by Billy Ocean that was not too bad, and the video was not bad… until… they decided to get the actors from the movie to cameo on the video. Watching Danny De Vito pretending to play a sax as big as he is it’s cringe-inducing. if you care to see it, here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-n3sUWR4FV4
Anywoo, I always liked that phrase. My mother, bless her heart, talks to me on the phone everyday because she knows I feel sleepy at the wheel during my 66 mile commute to work. I do it mostly because she is almost 80, and one day she will not be around anymore to talk, so I do it while I can. She worries about me juggling so many things at once, like work full time, then school full time, and of course the responsibilities of a family man. But I laugh and reminds her that I might not be a young pup anymore but I sure enough had it worst before.
My first job was as a paperboy and my bike broke one week into it, but I did not quit. I did my route full of hills on foot, carrying the newspapers over my head. It would take me hours, even though it was almost for free because the newspaper managers were into a scheme that allowed them to keep most of the money and have us work for almost nothing, but we didn’t know any better. So I treated this job with responsibility and an ethic that has followed me to this day. I wake up early to do my job, and I do it as best as I can. And on top of that I had to go to school too, and I was not too much into school until I was on grade 11th, but I still went. On foot, because my family did not own a car. Never did.
I never got a bike from my mom, because she was afraid I might get hurt. But I did get it myself, and although I had no money, I managed to have 7 bikes within a year after I got my first, because I will find broken bikes and fix them. The ones that were not fixable I sold in pieces. Then when I was on my senior year… that’s when life got complicated: I got a real job on an Sbarro pizza eatery (where they treated me like an animal) but at least I had money, I was still on foot until more than a year after I got the job so I spent my senior year hoping on buses from home to school in another town and then to work, hop on a bus or walk over 3 miles to work and then walk around 3 miles back home around 11pm because there were no more buses anymore… just to get up at 5am next day and do it all over again. And I did not think much of it, because I didn’t know any other way.
So yeah, I know how to have it real bad, but that only makes me stronger. Reading CODE the first time is like reading Chinese, and English not being my native language doesn’t help things, especially when I don’t get things the first time and it makes me look (and feel) like a damn idiot. But why do I do this? I have a “good” job, were I can just stay until the day I retire, but I know one thing: I DID NOT come to this planet to pay taxes and then die. I will be almost 50 by the time I finally break free from my dead end job, but I am doing it, because you only have one life to live. And my story will not end up as the one of “could had been a great graphic artist/cartoonist/film maker/advertising man/web designer/coder.” NO. I am attacking this head on like it’s a hapless seal in the middle of the ocean.
Because that’s what we sharks do, dammit.