“Full-time” is a concept I never really thought about, even as I was applying it to myself or people around me. Like being the Old person in the room, no one needs to discuss.
Maybe it’s because today we’re blessed with Life Rules:
- Doing anything that gives you money at least 40-hours in a week = full-time.
- Parents not working, and instead solely focused on raising kids = full-time.
- Going to school at least 12-credit hours = full-time.
Whatever you do full-time with your life is supposed to be important. It takes a portion of your daily potential, concentrates it into the very horizon of your life. The sun rises on what you do full-time, sets on your plans to drive or take the train on what you do full-time tomorrow.
If it’s not fulfilling, it can make parts of life seem really fucking bleak.
But maybe it’s just me? I saw a tweet not too long ago that said something like “The difference between being a child raised on Love or Survival is blah blah.” I don’t remember the whole thing, but driving point of a difference at all caught me like an electric shock.
Survival today being access to money and resources Vs. Doing what makes you love living, happy.
It’s hugely fucked that the ladder is almost completely unattainable for the majority. I could lament against capitalism for a while, but instead I like to think about Pandas and Koalas.
Pandas spend almost all their time locating and eating their primary food source: bamboo. There’s love, be it in the taste or full-time activity. Bamboo is their life. Their survival is love.
Koalas’ daily game is eucalyptus. Toxic to humans and most animals, koalas pick eucalyptus and eat it because they can and most can’t, and evolved to do it better. Is that survival alone? Is it all just avoiding hunger until you’re gone?
And probably dumb and they are animals and don’t comtimplate beyond which of their unique trees is closer to a lack of edible leaves. And it feels arrogant, because we’re not so many generation from picking leaves for thatch, pounding mud brick for walls. Hunting, gathering.
It’s a long way to go to say: Last month I started working part-time to focus on school and pursuing creativity, and I’ve had this weird guilt about it. Like maybe I’m too old for these kinds of shenanigans. Like not using all your utility to grab as much money as you can is only waste.
Basically I came up to this:
It’s really hard thinking about working less as being an investment in yourself. But it’s not a monetary investment. It’s an investment in your love of life.
I’m a full-time panda.
Can anyone relate to the slog or change? Comment yo.