Job titles inflict pain as any definition does — they curtail thinking outside the box. Imagine what you can do with a bank of experience under a “title” — now take that and get LinkedIn to your next gig.
The individual is undefinable. Creative consciousness is an act of free will, a pragmatic solve for the pursuit of abstractions. Life never plays out to the cameo of the mind, but that is how the smug idealist sees it.
In reality, we’re all life’s underachievers. Care too much? Toast. Care too little? You’re an arrogant fool.
Money is an abstraction but one set in stone. Your livelihood is an extension of quid pro quo. What will your life be when shit hits the fan? For most people, that depends on lines in a bank’s computer. And what’s wrong with that?
Surviving with certitude begets a consistent breathing that pays attention to the drought of hiccups. We conform only to rage at home.