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Going home for Christmas made me realize that growing old tends to mean coming to terms with the fact that you’re going to spend the rest of your life traveling for extended periods to get to a job you might not like. Perhaps a better way of saying that is that growing old seems to be a lesson in patience.

Maybe when you’re young and single, you’ll be able to live right near work or school, but as you grow older it seems that you sacrifice proximity to work in order to get your kids a great education or to have more space for all the shit you, your spouse and your kids are accumulating together. Or because you like the neighborhood better.

So the hope is that you find a career you can settle into, something that you will not only enjoy doing for the rest of the life, but something that will be worth the fucking commute. Either that or you find music that distracts you from the level of suck dictated by your job.


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