call•me•jonah

This is what Jonah's day looks like:
He gets out of bed around 10 am. Eats some cold cereal. Works on a few design projects until around 1. He eats a sandwich. Works on some more design, runs a few errands. A few times a week he goes to work as a restaurant valet in the evening. Before he goes to bed he draws a portrait from a book of Richard Avedon photos and reads Enders Game.

It is an exceedingly simple life. But if Jonah is content with it, then who is to convince him otherwise. For what purpose would Jonah interupt his happy little life? Will he one day convert to religious extremism, become a rabid activist? Will he sacrifice this for a wife and family? Will he turn to the promises of wealth and a career?

Contentment poses a serious philosophical problem. A problem that businesses, and activists, and politicians, and religious leaders must contend with, each wishing to convince the contented that they are content with the wrong thing and that this or that cause is the source of the only true contentment. Perhaps, among the liars, one is telling the truth. But perhaps it is best to ignore them and live by experience, learn to trust yourself, accept your mistakes and acknowledge your successes. Step from the well trodden path and lose yourself in the forest. Perhaps you'll like it there.

It occured to Jonah once while he was driving, a brief transient thought, that he may one day look back on these few months in the garage as the happiest in his life. He may even one day foolishly try to recreate it.

It is a strange thought, is it not? For what does Jonah have now that is worth keeping? What is he afraid of losing? Who is going to take it from him?

He googles antonyms for responsibility.