It’s Friday evening here in New Zealand, and another work week has just reached the end of the line.
My commuting costs were nil, my conversations with coworkers and managers were limited to the comfortable arms-length of phone calls and email, and no one disrupted my work by demanding that I attend to their needs right now, like some sort of needy toddler.
To this slightly-reclusive introvert, it was bliss.
It’s hard to believe that it was just over a year ago that TruthInjected was born. When I held my breath and hit “Publish” on my first post, I didn’t expect that TI would have garnered the readership that has today.
And yet, here we are. People from over 50 countries, spanning all inhabited continents, have read articles on TI.
When I was studying at university, my aspiration was to become a professional gambler.
That’s right – I wanted to make my millions through betting on football matches. Now, I’m not talking about going to the bookies and taking a punt on the season’s designated punching bag because they are paying $20 to beat the best team in the league and just continuing to place irrational bets because I “have to make it back”. That’s what is known as problem gambling, and I was going to become a responsible gambler.
When I was 16 and taking a gap year because I was sick of the banality of academia, and nowhere near ready mentally to take on a degree course, I took whatever job I could find.
That job was driving forklifts, lugging bags of concrete and cutting timber to size for builders. Everyone at my work hated their job. It was a place that “dreams go to die”, as I was advised by a colleague when I first started working there. I was apparently making a huge mistake.
It’s the question that is as old as time itself. Ever since humans have been cognizant of their own existence, noblemen with their cognac, philosophers with the cigars, scholars in their libraries, beggars in the depths of their despair and students over bottles of cheap wine have asked the question:
Why are we here? Or in the case of the individual, why am I here?