Your might say, "You're not working. You are writing your blog."
That is true, but only because my wife brought me a plate of wonderful food, and I am momentarily distracted from this funding proposal I am trying to write.
So as I pause to take a bite, I ask myself this question, "Why am I working?"
On the surface I would say because I have been trying to find a quiet minute to work on this thing -- even blocked out time on my calendar -- but it just never happened. Now I am at the deadline. No more procrastination allowed.
But something inside of me says there is a deeper reason to this madness.
Perhaps the first reason is that I would rather be writing a blog about why I work so hard than writing a blog about why I am so lazy. It would be infinitely more painful to be called a free loader than to be called a workaholic, so I error on the side of the least painful indictment. Funny thing is that I actually am kind of lazy, but I write blogs like this so everyone thinks I work insane hours constantly.
Second reason. I don't like to say, "no." I like to be the one that says, "Yes, it can be done. Just let me do it. It won't take long."
Third reason. Thorns and thistles. It is hard to earn a living nowadays -- really since Adam and Eve left Eden. The proposal is long. The stakes are high. The task is tough. So we sweat.
Forth reason. I am a man. Women work longer some studies show, but work for women is different. I forget where I heard it, but someone said that men work with a deep ghostly sense of calling to it. It is sort of part of us. Deep inside we know we were meant to do it, so we feel impassioned by it and enslaved to it all at the same time. Like Captain Ahab in Moby Dick, we flail aimless for all of our lives seeking that elusive vocational success.
Yep, I am Captain Ahab. The whale has taken my previous boat and a chunk of my leg in our last encounter, not to mention a bit of my manhood.
I am gettin' 'er this time!
Heave hoe
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