6/22/2018

Sandboxes, Not Square Boxes

What do you want to be when you grow up.  Tick tock.  The clock don't stop.

Well, approaching the half century mark, should probably start to think about it.

Shovel snow.
Pull weeds.
Mow lawns.
Clean tennis courts.
Pull pins as golf club.
Work in a factory.
KFC fried chicken cook.
Drill press machine operator.
School book store.
Landscaping.
Copy machine.
Furniture mover.
Credit Card Analyst.
Retail Credit Card Analyst.
Small Loan Credit Analyst.
Assistant Branch Manager.
Bank Loan Underwriter.
Report Writer.
Computer Programmer.
Project Manager.
School Board Administrator.
Data Consultant.
Archaeologist.
Tennis Instructor.

Perhaps its time to narrow it down a bit.  Except.  Opportunity costs.  Once you define a specific niche, you choose one over another.

Choice.

Ah, choice.  That's what separates us from the animal kingdom.  Our minds evolved from slithering snakes to bi-pedal upright hominids with ability to choose.  Choose to become slithering snakes, full circle, just kidding.

Choose not to choose.  Whichever way the wind blows.  Doesn't really matter.  To me.

Here's what I see.  Contentment is stagnation, first step towards growing old.  To stay young, see the world with fresh eyes, enjoy what you do, do what you enjoy, find a sandbox in which to play.  When its no longer fun, time to move on.  When its not fun, it becomes work.  Who wants to work for a living.  When you can play.

From our earliest beginnings, our minds are ripe for learning.  Schools tend to squash, trample and squelch curiosity, free thinking and growth.  What sense in fortifying factory line non thinking workers to be curious.  All that does is kill the cat.

Form a single line, keep your mouths shut, speak when asked a question.  And no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.

Wait until you're older.  Except when you get older, you wish you were young.  Catch 22.  What they don't teach you.  GPA means nothing in the real world, after landing your first job.  Just shut up, fall in line, for the next 40 years.  Now they don't even give gold watches.  Bring in youth at a third your salary, and you get to train them.

So, once again, we are faced with the nagging question.  What do you want to do for a living?  Well, I'd like to play, in a sandbox, until it gets dark out, until I hear my name called, time to come in, supper's ready.  Growing old is for the birds.  Staying young is the name of the game.

Let the rats run the rat race.

I'll be in the sandbox if you need me.