I’m not even exactly sure what I mean by that just yet. I’m kind of writing by the seat of my pants. Actually, I’m not … no, on second thought that’s more than you needed to know. I was just sitting here thinking about work (I’m writing this on Friday night) and what its like to finish off the week. No, its more than that. I’m thinking about what it’s like to go to work five days a week, and what keeps me going back. I could say all of the proper family man things like: “I work because I have responsibilities at home” … and so on. That is a good reason, but not necessarily the one I was thinking of. Hell, my wife makes more that I do. I’ve never seen myself as, nor do I think others see me as, a man’s man a la 1950 (THANK GOD). I go to work because I like to go to work. In general, I like my job. It may not always seem like it, especially lately. I’ve been kind of run down by this thing that seems like a cold without quite being a cold, so I’ve looked and felt kind of disheveled. Anyway, illness or not, I can’t imagine making through five days a week if I weren’t working for myself.

I do like work, as I’ve alluded to before. Sometimes I can get too much of a good thing, which I’ve also alluded to before. This week was no different.

The last month or so I’ve been surrounded. People around me are suggesting that I should seek some small opportunity for myself in the part-time, work from home, start your own business arena. It is a subject that comes up every so often, and it has been particularly furious recently. The trouble is, it does sound appealing. In my fantasies, I see myself in some idyllic country setting, the only connection to the world being my high-speed connection to the internet, working from home and making a city living in a rural setting. Here’s the trouble: I don’t believe what everyone is selling – the idea that I have something that people are willing to buy. The media is full of stories about people that believed in themselves and in their idea, and through shear force of will brought their dreams to fruition. So where does that leave me? Here’s another problem: people keep telling me what wonderful work I do. Comments like, “you missed your calling John”, are driving me crazy. Why is it so preposterous to assume that I’ve found my calling precisely. The work that I do I do well, and like all good coworkers, I think I make my cohorts at work better. Just because I fill my niche well … does that mean that I’m destined for better? What’s better? I like my job. I think I do my job well. I love my family. I have time every day to be the first one in our small family to see my daughter’s smiling face just as she is about to be sprung from school. I have time to be the one to spend quality time with her, one on one, as we wind down from another day, and make the mundane chores of everyday life the glue in our bond as father and daughter. I have the time to be patient, I have the time to express my love, and I have the time to receive it in return. Just what is wrong with that? I’ve been asking myself that question a lot lately. Am I trying to convince myself of something?

It’s two hours until quitting time. Do you know where your clock is?
Yes.