The Grass Is Never Greener
I’ve been reading a lot on how my generation (I’m on the cusp of X and Y, according to people who decide such things) makes less than their parents, and how we’re not able to save for retirement and whatnot. Also, there is a movement to make salaries transparent. Funny, but I am not really a part of either. I currently make more than my mother or father do. Yet, they’re much better off than I am. So what gives?
Lifestyle. Plain and simple.
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(First off, my apologizes for the lack of posting. For what it’s worth, I do have a few drafts written up. Life has been hectic, what can I say)
Recently, I’ve been interviewing people (along with my boss) for the second Investment Officer position in my department. Since the gal we hired decided to leave (blamed commute and gas prices), we’re back to where we were 6 months ago. Which, all in all, isn’t that big of a deal. But the big part for me has been learning how to interview, and getting feedback from my boss about questions, responses, etc. It’s been quite the experience, to say the least. Given that my boss and I have more of a friendship / mentor relationship that an employer / employee relationship, I really do value his opinions and feedback.
Holly over at WorkLoveLife has begun to blog about being accountable in the various aspects of her life. It’s quite an ambitious goal, given the transparency that the internet can either give, or hide. But I admire it.
For me, I have quite a few people I’m held accountable to. As a former boss put it, I have a “board of directors” in my life. Every successful business has one, why not a successful life? Here’s mine:
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most recent tattoo last week. It’s a big one. It’s my 7th. I started getting tattoo’d when I was 20, and I’ve never really looked back. I’ve had pieces in magazines, placed in contests, and had internationally known artists work on me.
Then I read this article. Basically, according to Mr. Carpenter, I am a subhuman freak. On par with prostitutes, pimps, people with mental illness, and ancient tribal people. Frankly, I was offended by what he said. And I’m not offended very easily. While I understand everyone doesn’t appreciate or agree with my choices of self-expression (my parents being in that category), it certainly isn’t mutilation. And putting the artists in quotes, as to infer that they aren’t indeed talented artists? I’d like to see him attempt to draw something with a vibrating pen on a squirming person.
But he can’t. But he’s too busy making broad judgments. Like assuming that Mike Tyson’s face has anything to do with my ink (it doesn’t) or that, in his own words, “No one can deny that the heaviest concentrations of tattoos occur in
the lowest segments of society — prostitutes, pimps, pugs, prison
inmates, Ku Klux Klansmen and the members of street and motorcycle
gangs.” (they don’t).
So basically, in Mr. Carpenter’s world, I’m a freak. And yet, on any given day, Mr. Carpenter would have no idea I’m the kind of person he knows nothing about, yet feels the need to chastise. Heck, he may even think I’m a nice family man. As stated by one of my favorite bands, Good Riddance, “hatred is the stillborn child of ignorance and boredom”. Sounds like Mr. Carpenter has too much time on his hands.
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I am a freelance web monkey in Tampa, FL. I am heavily tattoo'd, I sleep too little, I drink too much coffee, smoke entirely too many cigarettes, but otherwise do my thing. My littleman > you.
