Motorcycle diaries – A journey into Che Guevara’s mind. A transformation. A medical student who travels across South America on a bike, then on foot. Sees the injustice. Sees the misfortune. The inequality amongst his class and theirs. The equality of the masses from the topmost tip to the southernmost coast.
Is it just his continent? Is our ‘sub’ continent different? I am accused to be a romantic? I romanticize poverty. Do I?
I feel trapped. Trapped by my skills – or the lack of them. A consultant by training. What good are these skills? How can I use them to help someone? A doctor, now he has some skills. What do I pursue. What skills do I need to help others? Communication, passion, hardwork? Only if for a cause. I know I can work hard …. but for a cause. What is that cause? How much do I earn? For whom do I earn? Do I save and distribute? No. My time is much more important. I should donate my time.
I am trapped. Trapped in this country. In this city. Should I just go back? What to do when I do go back? Is there a plan? How can I help them? Work where. How do I find a job where I have time. But I need a plan. A very different plan. Something that no one else can help me with. Where do I start. Who do I talk to?
Is it just momentary? Is there a job out there which will satisfy me? Without helping others? Is all that I want is a busy day .. day after day? Will I be happy if I cant decide my work? Do I question everything? Wait for recommendations. Kiss ass for recommendation! Dont anger the superiors! I dont care. Anglo-saxon pleasure seekers. Viruses on the face of this planet. Sad, pathetic souls.