At work today, I was realizing something about my so-called career. You know the shit I do during the day to pay the bills when I should be avoiding the procrastination that’s about 43 years in and has prevented me from doing anything I ever dreamed of doing. The regular, stifling 9-5 gig. Yeah, that job.

What I was thinking is that surprisingly, given that I don’t fucking mean to do so, I keep stumbling into the latest and greatest of a certain non-money-making sector. I mean, dig it, right now, I’m working in the same field where Gates, Buffet, Bono and Clinton are making headlines and keeping magazine sections busy. Granted, no pun intended, I’m approximately 3 thousand or million or so species down on the food chain.

Back in the day, I ran the adding machine tape on the multi-millions of the original human genome project. Breast cancer genes, chicks getting fewer radical mastectomies when the data showed it was crazy unnecessary, I’ve worked near some interesting shit. Shaking hands with Nobel-Prize winners for years and now in whole new social science disciplines.

Whatever, not my success, but I was there, I guess.

In the present day, I might be getting a bit of thrill from the proximity of others’ accomplishments, though. With the apparently burgeoning and exciting field of good works, I’m closer than I ever was. And if saving the world is part of the new wave, it looks like I might be able to ride the crest into seeing more of the blue marble. Leastways, a fortune cookie and some budget projections look like there’s a chance of travel in my future.

Of course, the irony is that after my last vacation, I eased into enough comfort to make me not want to leave the house.