Rekindling the Passion
I'm not sure when or how it comes about, but every few years I will inevitably start to question what I am doing with my life. Most of the time I am saved from pondering why I am doing the work that I am doing because I can usually rationalize away the question by reminding myself that it's just a job and I need the livelihood. There are times, though, that the rationalization fails me and I am left with the depressing thought that I have just wasted years of my precious, short existence without accomplishing a damn thing. Believe me when I say that there isn't a more desolate feeling than waking up all alone in your tour bus bunk and feeling sorry for yourself while speeding through some unknown state in the middle of the night. It can happen any time at all and sometimes without us knowing it happened until it's already happened. After all, one moment your life is wonderful and serene in a world of perfect order and harmony, and in the next instant you find yourself trapped inside a cubist nightmare in which all angles are askew and perspective is challenged.
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