I was sorting out my stuff the other day and ran into a notebook someone gave me for my birthday last year. I thought it was empty, but there were three entries. One on being undefined, another on why I don't like modern poetry, and a third on the nature of semantic markup, comparing documents to artwork. I filed it on my bookshelf.
I took it down today to add a fourth entry, recording something I realized today and something I decided.
What I realized was, that there are some things you do for love.
And there are some things you do for money.
If you're lucky, your job is both. And if it isn't, don't conflate the two.
What I decided was, that I'll take up waitressing before I'll take an IT job I hate--one that isn't, to me, worth caring about.
Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own."Jubal Harshaw", Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein
It's not quite relevant, but it's one of my favorites. *wants to grow up to be an eccentric, too* (Not that I'm getting any taller, really...)