Schizophrenia Rules

I never liked Jim Carrey much: but that was before I saw his Me, Myself and Irene, and could immediately relate to his split-personality life. You ask me "why"? I'll tell you. Try my lifestyle for a week, and you'll know. If six days and seven nights of arnie-itis doesn't kill you, I'll take my hats off to you. My shoes and sweaty socks too, if you want.

It all started on that fateful day, six months back, when my mom, giving me her weekly "You're a grown boy sonny, and you need to start thinking about your future" lecture. The f-word here was 'finance'. "Your dad is going to retire very soon, you know, and we can't afford to support you forever". Blah blah, and so on.

That decided it. That night, as I wiped off the three thousand, seven hundred and ninety-second teardrop from my eye, I made a vow to myself that enough was enough: I would become a man at last. After all, I was fast approaching 23, and it's surely high time I stopped being a boy, and joined the ranks of the men.

I had to stand on my own two feet financially. How long could I go on expecting my poor parents to sponsor my vices? And so, at the tender young age of 22, I had to cut my financial teeth. Get a job, and learn to manage academics and career at the same time. This required learning time management. And resource duplication. Apart from the fact that all these management terms sound double-Dutch to me, the plain and simple fact is that it required a whole sea-change in attitude.

After all, wasn't I the person who had made a virtue of idleness? The guy who planned to make a career out of marrying the only daughter of a multimillionaire? The guy whose simple creed in life was "having a poor father is bad luck, having a poor father-in-law is stupidity"? And here I digress again. But hasn't that been the story of my life? After all, isn't work a digression from the high pursuits of hedonistic vegetation?

I wrote this when I was in my first job...zillions of years ago...