I honestly wonder if life is designed to just present one challenge after another sometimes. I decided to temporarily move from being back home to another central European country, to focus a little more & to enjoy a change of scenery before any impending larger moves (the previously mentioned move to the Americas, which has reemerged from it’s slumber as a potential option). Suddenly all at once, I am buffeted by numerous short notice job interviews, another treatment for an ongoing health problem, contact from Main about getting back together & a ‘high profile’ role in the Americas where I apparently can ‘open up a stream of business’ for my consultancy, providing I’m willing to work in a hardcore hedge fund environment, working eleven to twelve hours a day on seriously technical financial matters.
The plus on the move to the Americas is the apparent ease verging on unreal, on how it easy it is to attract women, as told by someone being based out there in recent years. The guy who told me this, I can assure you would in practically any other locale classed as a ‘nogame’. He’s as beta as they come, verging into gamma territory. While good at his job, his communication skills are clearly rehearsed (I give him credit for trying) but still abysmal. While I have complete respect for experts in the IT field, having worked with some absolutely fantastic people in this area in the past & being only moderate in those same technical areas myself; the bottom line why people like me have a place in my field is because of the terrible communication skills & manner of thinking procedurally , rather than laterally; of people like him.
If a guy like this is telling me he’s drowning in pussy, if I go over there I imagine it has the potential to wildly get out of control.
But here’s the kicker. Even a seemingly confident guy like me has confidence issues at times. I know I’m a great communicator, very professional & knowledgable in my job & of course, an incredibly talented writer on the verge of international stardom. But the amount of skills I still need to accumulate sometimes seems never ending. During today’s conversation I was informed of the need for advanced technical skills in a ‘demanding environment’, for a role that’s going to start potentially in a month.
I’m already studying my ass off, continuing my French language skills & revising more advanced mathematics, as well as considering learning a programming language. There’s been a lot less updates on the women I’m banging in recent weeks partially for that reason; I don’t have any fucking time.
I have to say at this point, if you’re one of those people who for whatever reason discovered your passion at a very early age, you’re lucky as fuck. If you didn’t have this but are still young (early twenties), you’re still in a decent position. Don’t waste any time, believe me. Get on with something. Even if you’re not sure if it’s the best thing to do – you can always change. Six years ago, I was in a band, singing away. Trying to achieve an entirely different goal. All the skills I built up until now for my career, I studied my ass off or hung in there during the early days, trying to delay any dismissal through people liking my character.
The truth is, I couldn’t really give a fuck about any of it. I have only ever been motivated by the money involved in my field. Initially to clear heavy debts from a business venture with EEP (don’t ever do a business venture with a romantic partner), as time has gone on, the money I accumulated allowed me to do things I actually have a passion for, like travel to far off destinations, make love to beautiful women, see amazing places & meet incredible people. The more I did this, combined to experiences like playing onstage with hundreds of people singing back to you the words you wrote just weeks earlier, the more I realised how many possibilities there are to live your life. How many ways there are to be happy. It’s a blank canvas, & the freedom to be able to choose to do anything you want to do is mindblowing; to the point where people decide not to decide at all, & simply get carried away by the tide of whatever flows into their life.
Maybe it’s just me but I seriously can’t see how anyone can be happy when their entire live has been dedicated to only a corporate existence. It’s just so fucking boring. The people, however pleasant, are generally so fucking boring. Of course I understand the motivation is money, the key tenet of capitalism we must all adhere to should we participate (most of us don’t have a choice). And at least some of these people were not only on this one path – they had a different goal once & instead succumbed to either the economic conflict (being in a band usually = minus money) or some type of imagined age restriction (‘I’m thirty now, I should get a proper job’). But you see it seeping through their corporate veneer every day; the misery in the mornings as they drag themselves to work every day from some type of imagined duty, the only flashes of true interest coming from the rare moments their true passion is alluded to.
Having money is fucking useful, but to let it be a measure of your worth is quite pathetic, particularly if your level of sacrifice & to get it is all encompassing. The opportunity cost of working eleven to twelve hour days is going to be high, not only in the abandonment of your true passion but also in who you’re going to be surrounded by while doing that job & how it’s going to change you as a person.
The guy I mentioned earlier who prepped me for the interview I had proper later that afternoon, also mentioned how the traders often went to various strip clubs around the city scene. Sounds great, to be a ‘big man’ no? Working eleven to twelve hour days, for the privilege of being seen with other wasteful big spenders, blowing your money on women pretending to like you so they can rinse you of your money, all while destroying your liver night after night. Not to mention the strong possibility of developing a coke habit. The sacrifice of literally half of most of your waking days, to spend money so people think you’re the man, when in fact they are most likely to just think you’re a cunt.
Fuck that shit & fuck anyone who thinks that. Life isn’t a fucking music video. I’ve made & been in music videos, & I can tell you first hand; whatever you think you’re seeing in those videos is fake as fuck. Maybe one of the groupie dancers might fuck the next Rick Ross wannabe in the back, but ninety five percent of the time it’s a slick operation with hard timelines, after which everyone needs to get the fuck out & start preparing for the next assignment. Ironically, the only realities are sometimes those same ‘celebrities’, in a darkened back room, banging up a load of coke or smack, or whatever is en vogue this week, much in the same way as the pricks in the corporate world who think they’re emulating them.
I wouldn’t have such a problem with them if they weren’t so patronising, talking down to others as though they’re the shit. I’ve seen it even going back to when I was working in security; the aggressive, condescending attitude to people who in an unregulated environment (e.g not with the protection of the workplace & in the street) would literally be able to kill them. These fuckers are literally the women of the western world, thinking they’re something special because they are earning above average money. Exactly how a lot of women think they’re entitled to everything, because they have a pussy?!
There’s ways to become a big man & the real big men don’t shout about it or flash their wealth. The most powerful people I’ve ever met were very normal & confident yet humble.
I don’t know if I’m heading for a ‘Falling Down’ moment any time soon, but recently I hit my thirty fifth birthday & while I haven’t become broody like a thirty year old woman, looking for the richest acceptably looking and/or gullible mug she can find, I have thought it might be time to reset everything & just think about what the fuck I’m doing with my time.
I sign off with a paraphrased Alexis Grant quote;
‘You may think of change as taking steps backward. But they are backward steps in your old life, not your new one.’