“Normal Man is a Fiction.”
— Carl Jung
Hippocrates said that man is a product of his environment. I can certainly say I was a product of my environment – a corporate chick, climbing the corporate ladder, going through the motions of my comfortable jobs, perpetually half asleep. I was a consultant at an accounting firm, an associate in a law firm and a research slave on Wall Street. I thought I was on the road to success when I landed a job in a big hedge-fund. It offered me a promising salary and a career and a breathtaking NYC panorama from the penthouse located on the 47th floor of the landmark building in Midtown East. There was only one problem – the nature of my job was against my nature. I quietly loathed regulations, I could care less for numbers, and frankly most of the corporate law was lullabying me to sleep day-in day-out. Could I say I’d become Comfortably Numb? It wasn’t just Pink Floyd’s wise poetry. Deep inside I was quietly loathing what I’d become – a corporate robot-chick wearing a knee-lenght skirt approved by an HR, filtering every sentence that came from my mouth and falling asleep with my eyes wide open during office meetings. I desired to finally wake up to crawl out of my skin and annihilate my old self, burn her once and for all. Swiss philosopher Jean-Jacque Rousseau believed that a newborn child is like a blank page on which everything is written in the course of life by experience and learning. I was restless to become a blank page again. And one day fully awake, I took my damn safe Ann-Taylor shirt and J-crew skirt off and took a walk on the wild side.