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| Pompous gut meatwad |
It's a Saturday morning in 1984. You're ten years old and enjoying the finer things in life: watching a lineup of The Smurfs, Alvin and the Chipmunks, and Scooby-Doo on a sweet 19" Magnavox. During commercial breaks between scenes of Shaggy cracking the case of the seaweed monster, ABC airs a public-service announcement ostensibly to inform and educate the target demographic: unsupervised children feasting on Frosted Flakes while lounging in their He-Man pajamas.
Some of these PSAs featured Timer, a top-hatted meatball, perhaps named because there was limited time between Mystery Machine escapades for the network to clear their corporate conscience and broadcast something other than a Stomper commercial.
One of Timer's more memorable episodes was a trip into the human digestive system, where he advocated for a healthy diet while filming on location somewhere between the epiglottis and the anal sphincter. He famously quipped, "You are what you eat, from your head down to your feet."
Despite the on-screen credibility of a talking meatball dispensing health advice from the inside of a duodenum, Timer was wrong.
You are what you eat? Please. I'd like to think that in 1984, having successfully survived one decade on this planet, I was more than SpaghettiOs® and Klondike Bars. Was I not at least the sum of my experiences and growth, both good and bad? Couldn't I change who I was?
Fast forward 38 years. I'm 48 years old and have been unemployed for four months. As long as I have been a working adult, my sense of self-worth has been inextricably tied to my employment. Ergo, without employment I must be without worth.
Wrong, Timer, you pompous gut meatwad. Beacause I'm NOT what I eat. (I mean, maybe a small part of my forearm is built from Rice Krispie Treats.) I'm more than what I eat. And I'm certainly more than my job. Or lack of a job. My existence has not ended with my paycheck. And whatever future I choose, a job will just be the enabler to accomplish more important goals.
To my own surprise, in navigating this "between-jobs" period, I'm not miserable. I've filled free time with extra gym time in pursuit of some long elusive exercise goals. I certainly don't workout 40 hours a week, but my training is goal oriented, self directed, and results driven. So it fills my need for purpose and accountability.
And I'm spending more time being a dad to the next generation of Saturday morning cartoon TikTok watchers.
