few days ago I thought about the relationship between vocation and profession. What we do for a living is usually not always what we wanted to do. The degree of satisfaction in this area has to do, I believe, with much or how little we get in our daily work, our vocation, our calling, our need. The closer we are, the better we perform, the better work and more satisfied we feel. I remember in Mexico to two newspaper vendors, one at the confluence of Philadelphia, Nebraska and Texas, in Naples and one in light of the shaft 7 with Cerro del Agua, which seemed to be very happy with their work. Always delivered the newspaper with a smile, with a commentary on the latest news with satisfaction of getting up at three o'clock to pick up the newspapers on the street Bucharest, or where necessary. I liked to watch them work. In general, be newsstand think it is a task that usually like who performs it. Instead, I know one person who make copies to put a good face. I have taken copies in many, many stationery, and nowhere I've found someone you feel satisfied and glad to make copies. Being
driver is now more complicated. Many taxi drivers I've met are happy with their work despite the risks usually. Some will even be excited about, but strangely, many taxi drivers came to be because the circumstances of his life were taken there, not by a decision based on a vocation. Many taxi drivers I know studied engineering, architectures, or are in their free time musicians, but none said small "I want to be a taxi driver."
heard on television that the inhabitants of the Fiji Islands or some other island in the Pacific were the happiest, while residents of large cities like New York or London, had the lowest values \u200b\u200bin the ranking of happiness. " I think this is because people in those beautiful islands do not need much more than what they have, and effort to get lower. I do not mean they do not work, but being a fisherman on a Pacific island to be heavy, but will have its dotted with pleasure, I think. Observe the clear waters as they change color as dawn is the dream and must overcome the reluctance of a morning's work. Cover both work and pleasure, of a slice. Instead, the inhabitants of large cities will increasingly need things to be happy, and besides increasing the working time and effort to get them, not always like what you have to do to have some level of life do you think will suit. This increases the degree of frustration. On the one hand, live with all the comforts and conveniences that are supposed technology and progress, on the other you will not ever get them a break and perhaps to other dreams parked towards the plasma television and he penthouse overlooking (what views? the other illuminated buildings, or the only piece of sky that can see?). All this, said with the "Born Slippy in the background. And one memorable monologue by Ewan McGregor in the film Trainspotting. No wonder the inhabitants of some desert island are happier than us, no wonder. even in Cuba still dance and smile despite rationing and the omnipotent Fidel.
Turning to the profession. About halfway through the race I realized I wanted to be (or rather do), or what best suits my profile. For this, I have to say, was very helpful my teacher, Pancho Rodriguez, who was engaged to look hesitant to swell ranks of his department, and found an incautious, I follow him power. So against all odds, that put me in the specialization of Film, I started with my backpack in Journalism. How happy I was during those college years. Around me, political assassinations, wars ever closer thanks to television, which broadcast live and direct, indigenous guerrillas. The glory days of Subcomandante Marcos. Intense moments that were analyzed by great journalists: Carlos Marin, Raymundo Rivapalacio. I wanted to be a journalist. But then, when I had to go to boring and long sessions of Congress or the Federal District Assembly, when he had to dive (we had no internet yet as now, although I came the press releases from agencies) in the newspapers for get information that my boss, Oscar Mario Beteta live across the street Horacio Private (home of Radio Formula), when I had to know the typical chacaleros reporters and alcoholics, when I met the underworld where he must move to remove the note, the tricks and the tricks, I was disappointed too quickly. And I did not give a second chance, partly because my personal circumstances did not allow it, partly because leaving those jobs in the media the way it was diverted to other places and could not find a way back, if I'm here, ten years later, not a journalist, but with the longing of wanting to be. And then the next day was shopping and heard a radio report that said the most respected professions and with greater appreciation among the people, were those of health services, doctors, nurses, etc. What about the less valued? journalism. So I regret for not being (not do) something that the other end, even value.
But then I asked Carlos if that mattered. So what that others appreciate your work or not. But that's another story.
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