The paper chase

It goes like this:

* I work on the house but not crazy paced.

* I take on other jobs to enable the eating and breathing that seems just...I don't know, right

* The first of the month, I send all the money I made to eat and breathe to someone else to keep me from going to jail

* The second day of the month, I go to the first item above and begin anew.

And so it goes (thanks Vonnegut). But isn't that how the rat race is played? That's not a complete description of life for me, just one of many ways to look at it.

I was reading last night and the author described money as a concept and not a real thing. Confidence in the system, that the paper has value, that someone will honor the inferred value. Left me feeling like I do when I consider the billions and billions of stars and depth to the galaxy and little 6'4" me down here: very very small and part of a hhhuuuggggge thing.

I swing my hammer, dig post holes, and generally sweat in exchange for pieces of paper which I then exchange for beer, Ted Drews, and phone services. I know there has to be some medium for that exchange of value. Something tangible from the intangible (when exchanging services). But it is kind of an odd process.

Sitting here, I can get the author's point about the abstractedness (a word?) of money. But, my friends, try taking that conversation on with AT&T or your landlord on September first. Suddenly the abstract becomes very real.

Abstract or not, life sometimes really just feels like a constant chase for paper.