Saturday, August 11, 2012

Thought for the day


Ian from Downunder said...

Hello Toad,
Greetings from a sunny but cold old Melbourne town.
I hate quotes such as your Hemingway choice. It's a bit like the philosophy, 'follow your bliss'. I feel as though I've failed miserably in my life when I read such statements as I absolutely hate my job. I've spent all my long working life doing jobs I detest. I cannot relate how depressed I feel on Sunday evenings when I think of the week to come.
Whilst I applaud the ideals and the spirit of the philosopy, I've been a lousy follower.
I hope you and my fellow Toadsters have enjoyed a more positive Fate.
All the best, Ian.

Anonymous said...

Hi Ian, I don't like quotations either. Especially when they suggest I be like someone light years away from my real self. Me jumping into a lake for fun, never. I do think this quotation just means to do something Fun once in a while. It's rare to find folks who equate Fun with Earning A Living. You are not alone in finding earning a living a miserable grind. Maybe you think reading the internet is Fun, I know I do. I have a ton of Fun reading, I have much more Fun reading than jumping into lakes. Lakes are for reading about, not jumping into.

-She Who Talks Too Much

Gail, in northern California said...

Oh, Toad...what a lovely service you have provided here. No doubt Ian from Downunder will find some solace in reading the sweet refrain from She Who Talks Too Much. Kind of her to write.

Pink Benny said...

Life is too short to dance with ugly women. I would not spend too much time working in a profession or a job I despised. Auntie Mame remarked that "life is a banquet, but so many poor slobs are starving to death." I feel badly for those who aren't able to extract themselves from undesirable circumstances.

Anonymous said...

"Auntie Mame remarked that 'life is a banquet, but so many poor slobs are starving to death.'"

Another unhelpful quotation notwithstanding, Auntie Mame was an independently wealthy socialite, so how would Ian Downunder's working class lament relate to Auntie Mame's socialite lifestyle?


Owl Tie said...

Ahh Ian. That Sunday feeling. shudder. When I was a kid it was the disappointment of having to finish my neglected homework, early to bed and the school bus the next morning. When I was in college it was the weekend is over and there is a test on Monday I haven't even cracked the book for. Later there was Sunday evening after a weekend of dancing and concerts and f**king drudge work week starting the next day. Then there was get the kids all fed, washed, and bedded with homework and lunches all ready for first thing in the morning. Now I am retired. I still get the Sunday dreads. When I was in high school and hating my Sunday afternoon doldrums, my father who absolutely LOVED his job, told me that he was always depressed on Sundays. I was so shocked to realize that the feeling hadn't gone away for him. After all, he didn't have "school" the next day. It never goes away. The Sunday feeling. Thanks for your post.

Toad said...

Ian I have been lucky in that I've only once had a job I despised. I left within a month. Lousy jobs are dangerous.

Skipping the philosophical words of the day, and being serious for a moment, lousy jobs are bad not only for a good man's soul, but they are deadly for your health. I can't improve your circumstance but I urge you ensure your health.

Monday morning heart attacks are not a myth, but a medical reality. Look after yourself. I need you to be my eyes and ears on the ground down under, more importantly so does your family.

Anonymous said...

Ian from Downunder thanks all of you for your kind thoughts. What a lovely group you are.
Too late Toad. I've already had the major heart attack but thanks to 2 great paramedics they jump-started the old ticker before getting me to a hospital for a stent.
I remember a day or two afterwards, one of the nurses reassured me I'd be back at work in no time. Oh joy of joys!!

Anonymous said...

Tardy in getting this to you, Ian, but here's a little quotation even better than Hemingway's attempt.