It's tough to get a column done when you're looking at stacks of boxes and are wishing for a few hours to yourself so that you can get settled. It's late at night and you're dreading having to get up in the morning to go back to a job that is starting to get to you sooner than you had anticipated. Now you can walk to work -- and a pleasant walk it is of about 20 minutes on a bike trail. It's tough to make yourself relax and just listen to the crickets in your new quiet little neighborhood in Albuquerque's notoriously mainstream northeast heights. You don't mind admitting to yourself that it's nice to also be within walking distance of Best Buy, Builders Square, OfficeMax, and Target. There is so much to appreciate about your new situation and new residence -- but you know, not so deep inside, that it is not new enough.
Once you have found the mate that you know you're going to spend the rest of your life with, and the house you are going to spend it in, determining exactly what it is that you are going to spend the rest of your life doing becomes all the more pressing.
Is it too much to ask, to have a job that is challenging, stimulating and interesting and also does not stress you out and eat up your emotional self to the point of depression? I don't think it is too much to ask. In fact, I know it isn't.
[I hope all you English freaks out there don't get too upset with all my "its".]
I hope to explore this question indepth in future columns, with the intention of finding the answer. I know there is an answer.
Like Mulder knows: The Truth Is Out There. (Actually it's in there, but more on that later.)
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