Of option weighing and blessing counting...

There's this hypothetical girl- woman, actually. Just turned 25, let's say. For the story's sake.

And she's currently working in a position she used to love. She used to feel like she was helping people, like she made a difference, like she had the support of her boss and her co-workers and they were all on the same team, working toward the same goals, and doing a kickass job.

And now...

It feels like she has no control. She's ed-in-chief in name only. It's about money (non of which she's seeing the benefits of), about the opposite of journalistic integrity, about adverts that don't make sense and selling people things that don't work. It's about the bottom line, dollar, last penny in the barrel.

Everyone is fighting over that fucking penny, and no one's realized they've sold their souls for even less.

But. But. But. (Always a but.)

The girl/woman (wirl? girman?) of our hypothetical, not based at all in reality story has a j-o-b. She has a steady salary, and nice magical money that gets deposited in her account every two weeks. She can pay her her mortgage, her monthly expenses, afford the occasional shopping excursion, etc. She is never hungry, without medical coverage, or in fear that she will lose her home or car.

So she balances the good and the bad. (Insert Yoda-esque Zen comment here.) Takes her licks, but keeps paying her bills. Thinks of the people that are not as lucky as her, and counts her blessings.

Ta.
savvy