March 31, 2009


The stuff that dreams are made of.

A SHORT THOUGHT

The stuff that dreams are made of, describes exactly what the Maltese Falcon is, as described by Sam Spade at the end of the famous, if somewhat, or more than somewhat, very confusing movie.

It also might describe our ambitions, or describe what we were going to be when we grow up. Some people I know were certain of what they wanted to be, and never veered from the path to get there. Others like me never had a clue what they wanted to be, much less how to get there even if they did.

I suspect that my 'lack of a plan' plan is the most prevalent amongst us. We live a sort of pinball kind of occupational life, not one I would recommend, but that's the way it went.

Looking back on it now from that place in life where we fill out the line on the form with the word none, or retired I have to consider myself lucky, and that is a very appropriate word, because my occupational life was certainly a crap shoot. I never planned one step along the way. This is not the way to do it. But I was never inspired by a doctor, or lawyer, or cop, or businessman, or scientist, or soldier. My parents never tried to inspire me one way or the other, it probably would not have worked, but on the other hand they never stood in my way, in fact they asked me what I was thinking about and would have financed schooling if I could decide.

But no I never could decide. I believed in the Huckleberry Finn school of academic and occupational achievement. I preferred to float down the river and take whatever came.

A risky way to deal with one of life's most important decisions, that choice that will provide the financing for that stuff that dreams are made of, but human nature is what it is. In my life I was given a strange sort of logic, the feeling inside me of knowing that jobs are just jobs and without short changing an employer, a way to make money. It was not a religious experience, at least not with me.

This is certainly not a primer on HOW TO SUCCEED IN BUSINESS, that would be an ironic joke. The only thought I wish to leave in this small slice of life piece is don't deny your human nature and reject the Huckleberry Finn school of academic and occupational achievement out of hand, because while you're lazily floating down that river you just might understand what dreams are really made of.

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