Sometimes I wish I were a Marxist ...

I decided to take last night off. And it was glorious!

I came home to my roommate and her friend cooking dinner - spinach and artichoke dip and baked stuffed peppers - so, naturally, I joined in to mooch the food, have a brew, and engage in conversation. We talked until 11pm about big things and little things, about faith and ideology and philosophy, about Noam Chomsky, gender identity, that long-ago time when I partied every night in DC, and running for State senate. I almost fell off my chair laughing when our guest admitted, "Sometimes I wish I were a Marxist, but really, I'm a socialist."

And I realized that these are the little, bizarre moments that stay written in the soul for life. I mean, I was so jazzed up yesterday after my day in the office, having totally ROCKED a big presentation, feeling a sense of professional accomplishment and pride ... but twenty years from now, I won't remember this one presentation. I've given a bajillion presentations in my short professional and academic career and I don't know if any distinct details about any single presentation would ever make my Top 50 Best Moments in Life list.

Don't get me wrong - jobs are great! Salaries are great! I'm a believer in working for more than just recognition and money. But always, I am re-learning the lesson that no matter how much I enjoy my job, no matter how much of an emotional or spiritual connection I have with my job, moments in the office will so rarely trump moments in real life.