June 15, 2016
Not too long ago, I was accused of being too much of a “gypsy” in my adult life.
The accusation came about after I expressed an interest in moving to a new job, one that more closely aligned with my interests than my current day job. I was, to put it mildly, irritated by this accusation.
It’s not that I have anything against gypsies, and it’s not even that the itinerant lifestyle is too far from the truth. The problem is that I haven’t had much of a choice when it came to staying power in the far-too-many years since my 18th birthday.
People don’t get to keep jobs these days. This is a sad fact of modern existence and one that many people haven’t quite grasped yet. Employment is not typically something that lasts for years and years — if you’re very lucky, you might get half a decade of work life before it’s time to move on.
I’m a prime example of this. My longest-running jobs have lasted roughly two years apiece (this doesn’t count six years in grad school — that’s more of a lifestyle than a job), and I didn’t have a choice in leaving any of them. One ended. One made me transition from full-time to freelance before kicking me out on a silly non-compete technicality. Another one just decided they didn’t want me around anymore and chose not to renew a contract.
Altogether these jobs make up more than a third of my post-college years, time that I could have — theoretically — been building a career with staying power. Too bad that’s not how it works.
I think I’m about to go full-gypsy again. The writing’s on the wall here at my supposedly stable, 9-5 office job. What seemed like a great bastion of much-needed stability is starting to look like nothing more than another work-related illusion, a trick that’s going to break me once more if I’m not careful.
So I’ll probably move on. Call me a gypsy if you like. It’s what we’ll all be soon.
Nov. 16, 2015
Meanwhile at ISIS headquarters…
Posted along with great love and support for the city of Paris