Melancholy

I just found out that a former classmate of mine has gotten a job that pays her nearly ten times what my job pays me. Ten times. That’s well beyond the point at which the idea of working ‘for love, not money’ loses its charm. In any case, I’d be lying if I said I love what I do. The said former classmate and I were in school together 8 years ago. An excruciatingly palpable sense of the amount of time that goes into a span of 8 years comes over me when I attempt to gauge the torrent of skill acquisition that she evidently forded and I evidently didn’t. The sole thought that crossed my mind when I heard about it was a vaguely glum sense of ‘well, you got what you deserved and so did she.’ Sigh.

I can see it already. Me ten years from now – cranky, frustrated, incompetent, and overweight, each quality exerting itself to a degree high enough to be noticeable but low enough to not offend. My days will be punctuated by Internet-powered revelations of the outstandingly grand lives of the people I once knew.

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