Here I am, turning in my office chair, in another 9×5x5 day, working for a good cause that amounts to a day spent in front of the computer. Being raised in plenty, my ambitions are not those of my parents. Everyday I seek a meaning to life. Being married takes the edge off the quest, for if I have no anwers at the end of the day, at least my purpose is to be home. My desires vary from being a leader well-connected and powerful enough to make a difference in underprivileged and mistreated people’s lives, to farming plums and cherries, and pressing olives. Where I am today falls in between, in front of a computer. If I were born to a rich European family in the early 19th century, I might have taken a casual interest in geology. Sun is burning hotter every new day, and even if global warming weren’t speeding up the impending closure, life will end one day. I read somewhere that life might come back in twenty thousand years. It is good to know that some people will be able to start anew. But I am stuck with my given governments and stinky lifestyle that people have been propagating for hundreds of years. Three day weekends would improve life considerably for me. Perhaps it would be better for Africans too but I can’t exactly articulate how. We would reap their resources with less speed.