Oh, man.

What an exciting life I lead. I spent my day in my cubicle writing code for a bank's intranet, then I came home and spent my evening writing code for a credit union's intranet. It is possible to interpret some of what I do as being important... the stuff I've made so far, at the moment, directly impacts or will have an impact on about three million people. How weird is that?

Do you have a bank account with HSBC? I my work affects your life.

Do you have a bank account with NSCU? I my work affects your life.

Are you a smoker in British Columbia or Newfoundland? My work will affect your life.

Yet I don't feel like I've done a blasted thing because it is all completely intangible and none of it means a damn thing to me. I don't like banks. Consumer credit is pure evil. Yet I support this system. I think the government suing the tobacco companies that they tax and regulate is absurd, yet my work supports this legal action (I took up smoking out of guilt).

I'm doing this all to pay off my fine art education and keep my studio space. Does that justify it? Does it matter one way of the other at all? Am I just an idiot for thinking about it too much? I'm groping for some meaning here. But there isn't any. I know that.

I'm just trying to be happy. Sometimes for a few hours here and there that happens. It helps not to have to worry about rent and food. I suppose that is reason enough for now.

I've really got to work this out, though. I can't keep flip-flopping between contentedness and discontent. I don't have any solid goals at the moment and without a goal I have no direction. I'm adrift. I'm getting seasick.

Oringinal post: http://mbarrick.livejournal.com/52932.html