My ultra-personal inner monologue

An ever-raging battle

A shocking discussion with my boss today. Her husband – moderately successful in corporate spheres – only ever sees his young daughter over weekends. For five days a week he’s out before she’s awake, and he returns after she’s put to bed, so that he only sees her two days a week.

I’m am now semi depressed with this thought. He has suggested to his wife that she moves out of the public sector and find a better paying job. I’ll grant you they have enough money for regular ski trips, a full time nanny, and their daughter will probably go to a boarding school as soon as possible where she will have a pony and be groomed for public school.

Together with this I’m reading a novel written by a someone whom I admire. Cory Doctorow is not much older than I am, and published his first book at the age I am now. I love the fact that he admits to calling himself a novelist since age 12 but only got to publishing when he was in his early thirties.

His protagonist (for want of a better word) is a child prodigy who is born to argue. In a way Cory admits to the novel being semi-autobigraphical, and I can also relate to the lead character as a boy. It also bears somewhat of a resemblence to the brilliant ‘Ender’s Game’ by Orson Scott-Card, with which I could also relate.

Have I lived up to all the expectations people have always had of me?


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