I am not looking forward to the commencement of the MBA program in which I have enrolled. You see I am confessing up front that it is my own choice that brings it on me; but I don’t think I am compelled to enjoy all of my own choices. While some see it a mark of good character to celebrate every choice you make for yourself, I contend it is a mark of good character to make choices you know you will not enjoy.
So I am not saying I regret choosing to start an MBA program. But I have been getting increasingly desperate to find entertainment, amusement, diversion; increasingly burdened with a feeling that my life lacks some happiness it should have.
I am whining, only whining. My life is amazingly free of any real care or concern. In a small measure this is itself part of my complaint. Most of us want to care for something, to have responsibility over someone or something, by which we can gain satisfaction through a sense of being appreciated. I am so self-absorbed as to imagine myself too busy to take responsibility for anything further than my own concerns, but not so self -absorbed as to find myself a satisfactory subject of absorption.
My boss takes for himself the most irritating projects with the least evident value, and lets me pursue mostly my own priorities. My family lets me live among them with room and board and only a minimum of chores. As regards money, a significant portion of what I earn does go to the family budget, but I am left with enough to provide for any kind of entertainment I might set my heart on.
Count your blessings, people say. I haven’t found analyzing things to be the same as appreciating them. I would break this funk, if I knew I thing I could get up and do to break it.