How long does it take for this "drug" to wear off?
If we enjoy our work are we "drugged?"
Is there some discussion group or anti-drug that can help us seek other forms of employment that are more respectable?
I've been told by inlaws and associates for eons now that flying is not a respectable line of work. Years ago, before I disposed of them, my redneck inlaws howled in loud terms that I should seek employment driving a logging truck, or working on a road crew. Real work, they opined. Stability. None of this dashing off in the night, unpredictable schedules, companies or departments shutting down with a days notice, flying into conditions that made it impossible to get life insurance, and trips to foriegn destinations under less than favorable circumstances. Get out, try something that puts you home every night, something they could understand...stop playing around and see life as it really is.
I've lived out of an airplane for ten months or more at a time. I've got a case full of tee shirts to record the various jobs, trips, visits, whatever. I've missed things I'd rather not miss. But I wouldn't miss what I've done; it's made me who I am. One day it's going to kill me, so say the statistics (which lie). That doesn't bother me; I do my part today, and deal with it tomorrow as yesterday. When I'm gone, nobody will care, and what's written in my logbook will be nothing more than dead weight in a landfill somewhere.
I'm not building a monument for tomorrow. I'm fortunate to be able to do what I do in the here-and-now. There is no dream. There is no drug. It's a job, it's an activity I'm very fortunate, blessed even, to be able to do right now. One might suppose that if it's going to "wear off," it might have done so a decade ago. Or two. But it hasn't. It's a way of life, for which I presume to make no apology.
Nor should there be any apology made for those desiring to pursue the same course. Certainly, let them know what lies ahead, but don't deny them their dreams. Dreams become reality, and there is nothing to fear from reality. If one wants one's reality to be one of fortune-building, then choose another venue, another avenue to fame. Yet if one can survive, make a living in a world where security is a theory and not an actual fact, and still be pleased with one's job, then one is ahead of 99% of the population. So many hate what they do, but make more money.
I, for one, would rather be privileged to fly, even at the expense of nor earning what Harrison Ford or George W Bush, or Donald Trump might, and be grateful for the chance.
If I come back in another life, perhaps then I'll try for a hollow existence seeking fame and fortune. For now, it is still flying and aviation which consumes me.
If we enjoy our work are we "drugged?"
Is there some discussion group or anti-drug that can help us seek other forms of employment that are more respectable?
I've been told by inlaws and associates for eons now that flying is not a respectable line of work. Years ago, before I disposed of them, my redneck inlaws howled in loud terms that I should seek employment driving a logging truck, or working on a road crew. Real work, they opined. Stability. None of this dashing off in the night, unpredictable schedules, companies or departments shutting down with a days notice, flying into conditions that made it impossible to get life insurance, and trips to foriegn destinations under less than favorable circumstances. Get out, try something that puts you home every night, something they could understand...stop playing around and see life as it really is.
I've lived out of an airplane for ten months or more at a time. I've got a case full of tee shirts to record the various jobs, trips, visits, whatever. I've missed things I'd rather not miss. But I wouldn't miss what I've done; it's made me who I am. One day it's going to kill me, so say the statistics (which lie). That doesn't bother me; I do my part today, and deal with it tomorrow as yesterday. When I'm gone, nobody will care, and what's written in my logbook will be nothing more than dead weight in a landfill somewhere.
I'm not building a monument for tomorrow. I'm fortunate to be able to do what I do in the here-and-now. There is no dream. There is no drug. It's a job, it's an activity I'm very fortunate, blessed even, to be able to do right now. One might suppose that if it's going to "wear off," it might have done so a decade ago. Or two. But it hasn't. It's a way of life, for which I presume to make no apology.
Nor should there be any apology made for those desiring to pursue the same course. Certainly, let them know what lies ahead, but don't deny them their dreams. Dreams become reality, and there is nothing to fear from reality. If one wants one's reality to be one of fortune-building, then choose another venue, another avenue to fame. Yet if one can survive, make a living in a world where security is a theory and not an actual fact, and still be pleased with one's job, then one is ahead of 99% of the population. So many hate what they do, but make more money.
I, for one, would rather be privileged to fly, even at the expense of nor earning what Harrison Ford or George W Bush, or Donald Trump might, and be grateful for the chance.
If I come back in another life, perhaps then I'll try for a hollow existence seeking fame and fortune. For now, it is still flying and aviation which consumes me.