THURSDAY, 28 APRIL 2016
There are people who love making money. These people know why they make money. It makes them feel good to have money; they like to spend money, and they like to own things.
Other people don’t think much about why they make money. They know all too well not bringing in money every month will mean suffering not only to themselves but also to loved ones who depend on them, or who rely on their financial contribution.
I have the habit of complicating things like this. I find it necessary to think of specific reasons why I want to make money, or why I feel I have no choice other than to make money.
One of the reasons I want to make more money than I need now is because I would like to be in a position in ten or fifteen years’ time where I could be less active in the process of making money. It would be exceptionally good if my partner could also be in a position to spend less of her time making money.
What complicates the money-making story for me is the fact that I don’t consider the work I do for money as my real job. I write, and I publish what I write – that is what I regard as my true vocation, and I am well aware that it will probably never generate much profit.
If I didn’t need to make money, it would probably never cross my mind. The productive hours of my days would be filled with work that I consider more important than any other work for which I am compensated in cash and money in my bank account. I would be busy producing words and sentences on a keyboard or with a writing utensil, and if I were not busy doing that, I’d be thinking of things that would probably end up on paper or in some digital format.
To make money is therefore for me a necessary and unavoidable unpleasantness.
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