Choose no life. Choose no career. Choose no family. Choose a       *****
fucking big computer, choose hard disks the size of washing        * A *
machines, old cars, CD ROM writers and electrical coffee makers.   * D *
Choose no sleep, high caffeine and mental insurance. Choose fixed  * M *
interest car loans. Choose a rented shoebox. Choose no friends.    * I *
Choose black jeans and matching combat boots. Choose a swivel      * N *
chair for your office in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose NNTP   * S *
and wondering why the fuck you're logged on on a Sunday morning.   * P *
Choose sitting in that chair looking at mind-numbing,              * O *
spirit-crushing web sites, stuffing fucking junk food into your    * T *
mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pishing your last * T *
on some miserable newsgroup, nothing more than an embarrassment to * I *
the selfish, fucked up lusers Gates spawned to replace the         * N *
computer-literate.                                                 * G *
I chose not to choose life: I chose something else.                *****

Choose my future.
Choose to be a SYSADMIN.

And the reasons? There are no reasons.
Who need reasons when you've got computers?