A corollary of "13. Be Internally Driven" would be that you should find work that is not just an instrument for supporting your life, but a goal that is meaningful in itself.
That is, you should live (at least partially) to work, and your work should be worth (part of your) life.
It's possible for certain addicts, like myself, to have an amazing quality of life living to work to live. Total alienation, just work like fuck. Workaholic, only with an actual substance acting as workahol.
So what I would do when I was both well-stocked as far as the medicine cabinet, and in addition getting paid a job where I ended up well ahead, was just work.
I'd show up to work like three times a week because the commute was long and very dangerous, biking on highways and such, til I found the terrible bike path I was meant to use. Still riding on roads a lot.
But when I got to work? Just plow through it. No shifts, none of that, no. Like yeah socialize at meals with the company, but just work. Just work. Pit stops, so like I needed dex as energy, really high octane fuel, because there was no other way to support those work trances. All the energy was in my skeletal muscle and brain. And I did a great job at everything on the first try.
Plus I had very productive behaviors as an employee, so I had a few things I was doing in parallel, solving them like puzzles, then when I got stumped I'd switch puzzle. Then when I had three questions together I'd tell my boss, so as not to be interrupting all the time, and figured them all out and got back to work. This happened on a like 2 hour basis. But mostly it was not based on hours, but on milestones. Like if it took fifteen hours to get to the next milestone, and I showed up at 10 AM, that just meant I'd be done at 2:30 AM (with lunch and pit stops, talking to people on the hallway).
And I ended up with more and more money! Then, what I did is I went to the City and partied. I was generally the life of the party among the men. I met so many beautiful women, hot women, cute women, mysterious women, flawed women (my favorite), of so many nationalities, like I was going to meet two Afghan women even. It was great. Very romantic.
It was much better than before, instead of work to live and live to work it was work at a loss for an ungrateful Chilean negrero, get nagged about the clock, negotiating a pay cut from under the local minimum wage to even less, constantly, deal with a doctor who also wanted to starve me of medication, and feed bad habits like smoking and coca-cola which were an inferior substitute to the medication on shortage.
Work to live and live to work, hey at least you live and if you like the work!
