"You're not your job. You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fucking..." diploma. Chuck Palahniuk was on the right track with his rendition of contemporary society in his novel Fight Club: We are the all-compromising, all-gluttonous crap of the world.

My eyes are shut. I'm breathing. I'm only breathing. The air is crisp and fresh. I open my eyes. I'm lying in an empty bathtub in a beautiful green field surrounded by luscious green hills. Besides the goats and cows, there isn't anybody around for miles. There are two little houses about half a mile from here, one for me and one for the cattle.

I dream of New Zealand, but I've never seen it, aside from in the movies and postcards I've come to treasure. It seems like a place instilled with a simple purity that makes it, for a lack of a better word, beautiful. It is a society not driven by monetary gain-it's everything that I wish I was.

One of my areas of concentration is economics. My future seems to lie in finance. I get a warm and fuzzy feeling from understanding and modeling people's behavior. I get giddy at the idea of interactive markets. But the deeper I dive into the apparent focus of my life, the more I hate its presiding object of affection, money.

Some people build houses, some grow food and others repair cars. I appreciate and understand the value of their existence. Their success, unlike mine, is defined by what they have created.

Predicting markets, buying and selling stocks or evaluating risk-these professions are by nature nothing but money changing hands. Therefore success seems to be determined by how much money you manage to get into your pocket. People begin their jobs with the intention of supporting their lifestyles, but careers in finance often have the effect of turning all interests into one: money.

I am not giddy with joy when I look at my potential life to come. Make money, more money, I need more money. Work hours, long hours, longer hours. Can't go home because I need more money. When the day finally ends, I drown my worries in two glasses of responsibly, reasonably enjoyed whiskey. When I finally retire because of my inevitable stroke or heart attack and try to enjoy the senseless money I've "earned," I won't be able to.

I'll sell my soul-I'll be old and unhealthy; a washed up, betrayed, pathetic version of the man I used to be. I'll take vacations with other stupid tourists in some resort on some island where I am greeted by locals who sell me fake smiles and a false indulgent version of what tourists think the island should be. Soon after I will wither and die, after a wasted existence in which my only goal was to take advantage of an economic disequilibrium. I'll have the opportunity to do everything I've ever wanted, but I'll be unable to do so because I'll be fat, dying and still consumed by greed.

I know I could avoid all this by going into research or trying to aid the world through the study of development-I understand we are equipped with tools to do something that is not purely for monetary gain. The Millennium Development Goals set out to do just that: poverty, education, gender equality, HIV/AIDS and many other issues are being tackled by economists every day. I could also follow in the footsteps of economists who serve as educators of the masses, trying to convince politicians to raise wages, increase welfare benefits or encourage ethics in economics.
But give me the opportunity to make money in a culture that is immersed and obsessed with nothing but the display of wealth, and I'll likely fall into the trap of making as much as I possibly can. Given the situation, I am too insatiable to stop myself from falling over that edge.

The more I think about it, the more I would rather settle for less money and enjoy my life one moment at a time by making it peaceful and pure.
I wish I could make the world into what I fear I am not brave enough to embrace by myself-a place where we are defined by our accomplishments, not the number of zeros on our paycheck. As the world is now, I don't think I could face the shame of not succeeding in other people's eyes. I am Amartya Sen's textbook case in his book On Ethics and Economics. He comments on the motivational problems that seem endemic among economists who, like me, are consumed by a need to see immediate results.

Sometimes I revel in psychotic, Fight Club-esque renditions of how I will destroy society's preconceived perceptions of success, but I realize I have to create this life by myself. I have to embrace my definition of success.

I think that if you want that life, you can have it. A simpler life, not a hippie life-I hate hippies. We can be strong, productive and, most of all, happier without the assistance of an expensive car and a large house. I don't think there's anything wrong with liking nice things, but if to acquire them you have to kill yourself then it's just not worth it.

Work fewer hours or use your education to help people-if need be, completely change your life and become a farmer who occasionally writes a book. You can work a job without your paycheck being your only motivation. You can work with a passion for the market without being obsessed with its presiding object of affection.

Sometimes the most profitable action is not necessarily evil. Just take a look at Jeffrey Hollender, CEO of The Seventh Generation-a leading brand of natural household products-who has taught us that the loyalty created by ethical practice can be far more profitable than its immediate monetary value. You can play with money and be responsible on both corporate and social levels. Don't let yourself become greedy.

It might sound strange that you get the greatest utility from life by living, but consider the alternative-not living-and you may understand what I'm trying to explain.

Palahniuk wrote, "This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time." Don't forget it.