In the end, it all goes back to self-interest.

I’m afraid of commitment, in any form. I like to do what I please, and do it with ease. My freedom is something for which I am consciously thankful. Perhaps it’s just a maturity issue, but at this point in my life I don’t want to be responsible for, nor accountable to, anyone in this world except myself. I strive to evade commitment as artfully as R. Kelly evades justice.

 

 

"Oh, that ain't me. That's my brother." Ah, The Parent Trap defense--fucking brilliant! I tip my hat to you, sir. You are a scholar and a gentleman.

 

I started this blog because I like to write, and now that I’m no longer in school I don’t have anything that motivates me to do so on a regular basis. I get pleasure from putting these entries together and I’m glad that you guys seem to like them. But this morning, as I was on my way to work, I thought: “Oh hell, TG, you said you were going to post every Monday to Friday. So now you actually have to do it, you fool. What if you don’t have anything interesting to say? What if you’re busy? Or what if you just don’t feel like it?” For a minute I was actually starting to regret that I committed myself to this, and then I got to work, sat at my desk, started to look over some paperwork and came across this sentence:

 

“CQ2S Transfer Agent sends lodge note for redemption orders via GP231 to CBRDelta Frankfurt and redemption orders booked in the order management system by CQ2S transfer agent and CQ2S Custodian for settlement on B+4″

I had to read that sentence 5 times over to understand it and in the process my soul died, 5 times over. Honestly, I should never have to lay eyes on an insipid, overly-technical, soul-strangling, punk-ass sentence like that. I don’t deserve it. There’s supposed to be a division of labor, but somehow I’ve been drafted to the wrong camp. That sentence was written by and for people who laugh at math jokes, people who spent their teenage years locked in a basement playing Dungeons and Dragons, people who get hard-ons while performing regression analysis. Of all people, that sentence was not meant for me.

I must say, though, my job on the whole isn’t bad. It affords me a comfortable lifestyle in a cool city. The people on my team aren’t pretentious. And, most importantly, I’m at home everyday by 7PM–which is almost unheard of for investment banking.

Still, I know that I was never intended to be a banker, in particular, or a “worker,” in general. My career, whatever it ends up being, will not require that I be chained to a desk all day (though if I’m lucky chains, and whips, will be involved in some way). I need to do something that allows me to exercise the right side of my brain. And so when I read that whore of a sentence above, I actually became grateful that I’ve committed myself to doing this blog. It’ll be my shit-slinging sanctuary in a world otherwise infested with graphs, balance sheets and pitchbooks.

Aside: For those of you who don’t know me in real life, I’m a Muslim. And Ramadan will most likely begin this Monday. I’ve been fasting for Ramadan for about 13 years now, so abstaining from food and drink is not that much of an issue for me. The first couple of days I’m pretty hungry/thirsty, but after that my body gets used to it. The real challenge with Ramadan is not having a stank attitude all day. You’d be surprised how much of an impact food and drink has on your temperament.  Something that would normally be a bit of an annoyance, can send you into a fit of rage.  You’re supposed to suppress it, but I haven’t conquered that tidbit yet. So be forewarned: Come Monday morning, I’m cussin’ all you motherfuckers out.  

 

Assalamualaikum,

 

TG