Diablo

“Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour.“

King James Bible – Peter; Chapter 5, Verse 8

I write from a cheap but good looking desk in an expensive but cheaply furnished hotel in a faceless town tucked into a crease in the hinterlands of a soulless country, wondering why I’m posting again, and why there’s no ice in this place for my whiskey, and what on earth the deal is with non-smoking rooms. I think the latter answers the former, and really goes a long way towards invalidating the quote-of-the-day, but hey, what’s a drink or six between friends?

I have seen the devil, and however out of character my reaction may be, I’m not sure I like him much.

I’ve always subscribed to the belief that there’s no such thing as too much of a good thing. I’ve always been convinced that commerce, in its basest form of buying and selling (and any derivative thereof), is fundamentally good. I’ve always been partial to the hustle and bustle of humanity and the untempered flow of raw energy. I’ve always thought I was better off flying solo, until my time came to bid this mortal coil adieu.

All of the above has been slightly flipped on its head in the recent past. In the process, I may have actually learned (or acknowledged) something quite disconcerting about myself. Now don’t get me wrong; I still believe in commerce, and can still probably spend a good few hours walking around Carrefour, eyes agog at the cornucopia of plenty. I still like people, albeit in controlled doses, and energy still carries an indescribable high. The Amelia Earhart bit, though, I’m not so sure about anymore.

Maybe it’s time. Maybe that’s what I’m feeling. Maybe it’s time settle. Maybe it’s time to move back to DTLF-Land and work some semi-menial job that pays semi-well until I hit middle-management and become eligible for the 14 karat gold-plated paperweight, while financing the corrugated cardboard shack, beige Tata Nano and 2.27 kids along the way. If I’ve lost the game, as much as anyone not playing may say I haven’t, then I might as well hurl myself off this low-slung balcony right now. Or settle down and be semi-content for the rest of my life. Ah, the ashes of mediocrity. How I yearn to smear you on my forehead and forsake the taste of possibility for Lent.

But that’s not what INSEADers do, right? INSEAD participants cross the threshold into the “real world”, shoulders squared, heads held high, armed with the wisdom of kings, ready to ride the winds of change, to spin the wheel of fortune, to find their Personal Legends.

So P4 is around the corner…here we go again. Four more months until we step into the maw of the abyss. Smile!