We Hate Our Jobs | Why Americans Are So Pissy
There is a sense of frustration and despair in the faces I see across tables in cafes and restaurants. A feeling of just keeping heads slightly above the encroaching tide. I believe that this sort of non-stop anxiety is incredibly unhealthy. I believe that swimming in it is a choice. As Sam Harris likes to say "Reframe." And as I like to say, "If you hate spending eight hours a day doing something that causes you to feel small or stupid or worthless, get the fuck outta there, bub!"
In the end, work is work. You sacrifice a piece of yourself to make enough dough to live. The question is how much of yourself do you give and for what return?
If You Have No Home for Hate, You Have No Home for Love Either
Try to expel hate, and it will wander, scavenging for scraps, surviving by any means necessary, wounds festering, world-weariness feeding a determination that has become destiny, identity, a crutch to lean upon while staggering on, surrounded by chaos.
...that if being a prostitute is just ‘sex work’ then why is it awkward if your manager at the local Starbucks offers you a raise for a blow job? It’s just work, right? “I’ll have a Chai Latte and a rim job. I’ll keep the tip.”