It is now 11 pm on Friday night, solitary realisation has dawned on me that my life is nothing like I wanted it to be. I am listening to Neil Diamond's sound track for Jonathan Seagull, browsing through magnificent photos of the Alps taken by Juergen Winkler, my dog is by my side undertaking some elaborate toiletry and my wife in the other room watching some videos.
This is now the seventh week in which I have been working 14 hours straight every day, I am exhausted and I have this terrible feeling that I am toiling for not much. It is not about money, the money is OK. Why am I doing this? Am I carrying the dreams of some executive I am advising, am I trying to find a way to assist some international holding company in achieving better returns on some pension fund's investments?
Is it that I just can't allow myself to have an easy life? What is it that I have to prove? That I am indestructible? That I can crack any problem thrown at me? What f**ing script have I written for my life? I am so tired!