I don'thave much to add to a brilliant analysis of the dark social and economic implications of the glib mantra that's been applicable only in America during the last 15 minutes of world history, "Do What You Love."
As a fellow who's been pretty happy in his work for most of the two decades I've been doing it, I guess I'd say that a more practical goal than "loving" one's work is being able to stand it five days a week without desperately wishing at nine thirty that it was five, and on Tuesday that it was Friday.
Meanwhile, my dad warned against doing what you love. "If you love boats," he said, "don't go into the boat business." Because you'll have to work when everyone else is playing. And sure enough, we had a house on a lake that had one marina—that was closed on Sunday, because the marina workers wanted to waterski, too.
If you do what you can stand to do every day, every once in awhile you'll find an assignment you love. If you try to do what you love every day, you'll wind up kicking the dog when you get home, because work doesn't fucking work like that.