So what exactly am I doing portraying this guise of responsibility? Who is this man I see staring back at me in the window? Where is he going? What kind of future does he have staring back at him? Not that I want to be doing all this questioning, but as of late I’ve been searching for that personal equilibrium between living my life as I want to and doing what I have to to survive.

Somewhere along the line I let myself get overextended, but then when I get the chance to catch up I want to do nothing more than shut down and disconnect. Why the hell do I feel the right to carry around this personal sense of entitlement, like I’m some exception to the rules of the other working members of society? Hell if I can say, but that sense is there and it’s going to do one of two things: lead me into my dream or lead me to my ruin. The trick of this is to be strong enough to pull off the better ending.

Before the candy companies got into the habit of centering the holiday around bunnies and jelly beans, Easter was all about the celebration of a resurrection. I could really use some divine help about now, but then again I’ve heard good things happen to those who help themselves. Religion has not been a big part of my life in ages. To be truthful, I never was really into the whole exercise but my mom wanted me to learn about it and so I went through the paces. These days I’m more about the whole personal faith thing — I have faith in me, and that’s all I need to get by.

Now if I could only harness some of that positive will into my car to help heal it. I could take the hit in replacing the vandalized wiper and mirror on my car, but when the thing starts bleeding coolant for unknown reasons I start to worry. I also worry that the new condition might have been caused by the same people I took my car to see when I needed to get a recall notice addressed. Anyway, this is starting make the pipe dream of new wheels I’ve been having more plausible. Well, justifiable anyway.

Wow, now there’s the thinking of a man raised in a disposable society for you.

First post in a while and we’re jumping right into the deep end with it:

“He stood straight, as if before a bench of judgment. He though that in the darkness of this night other signs were lighted over the country: Rearden Ore — Rearden Coal — Rearden Limestone. He thought of the days behind him. He wished it were possible to light a neon sign above them, saying: Rearden Life.”

Ayn Rand — Atlas Shrugged

Now, let’s take this quote and try and spin it into something meaningful. You know, to break up the deafening silence that’s come over this place as of late. The reason for said silence has just been massive amounts of good old fashioned work, trying to elevate my standing and building the lore of Fischler Life. When I look back at this transition period, what parts of it are going to be remembered as the important pieces that crafted it, and which things aren’t going to mean a damn to me?

I dare say the very work of crafting Fischler Life is already manifesting itself. The days of yore when I had no life to speak of and I posted every five minutes or so are long gone. I’ve graduated to a higher plane and the rules of the game are changing. The employment plan that I’ve been rolling out is basically two fold: get as much work as you can handle without going insane and make sure you don’t go broke doing so.

So far the transition has been tighter than I expected it would be. In the past week I had to deal with another one of those marvelous midnight oil burring sessions that had me awake for some 36 hours straight. Follow that with an 18 hour work day that was the hardest I’ve endured in ages. And at least part of this work that’s being done is for exposer more than anything, so while the wok is plenty, the pay is fleeting. It’s all part of the process of establishing yourself, but by the end of the year I had better have moved on to the fully established category. I don’t even want to think of what plan B is if I don’t make that mark.

I’ve been in this loop before. The land of poverty and poor nutrition that was my first few months as a freelancer in my first New York job. The only major differences are the lack of a five hour daily commute and a biweekly stipend that keeps me from having to boil and eat the tomes on my bookcase. But as stressfully wrenching as those times were, they were equally exhilarating. The ante was steep, but the payoff was worth it.

Now, how do I do it all again without going nuts in the process?

One theme dealt with by this Rearden character is being a bit helpful in the process — the struggles one faces when trying to do things your own way. I’ll admit that things might be going smoother for me if I were willing to play into a more stereotypical role; just do the good salaried employee route and be the nice little 9 to 5 man the world wants. But every time I’ve tried that it’s driven me to the edge of a nervous breakdown. It’s not me. And so long as I can afford to, it won’t be me. I’d rather try and create a working environment in my own image. That’s why I’m freelancing again. I want to spread my image of the world. I want to give from my head a feast for your eyes and your mind.

By the end of this summer a whole lot more of this digital world will be part of Fischler Life. Bank on it.