10/3/11
Now, this trip is partly to indulge in the cliché of figuring out answers to big questions. With Steff away and little to do in the interim, I've had plenty of time to think, yet all this thinking has yielded few answers.
I can clearly identify the general problems facing Steff and me at this allegedly critical point in time:
-Humans' purpose is existentially unclear, and yet working from the end of university straight through to retirement in a job that's anything less than spectacular seems to contradict whatever humanity's purpose may be.
-Working menial jobs through one's twenties is a waste of colossal proportions. It's one's physical prime, and, many would argue, one's best creative years. I learned a great deal working minimum wage for a year. Firstly, it's
hard. Secondly, it's largely fruitless. Thirdly, as you can probably deduce from points one and two, it sucks! While I was employed, I lacked any creative inspiration, indeed, any inclination to even do anything creative when I wasn't at work. I wanted mainly to put up my feet, sleep, and fight the antithetical angst caused by simultaneous urges to do
something and also to do nothing at all.
-What exactly is a spectacular job? It seems we're happiest as individuals when we have something to show for our efforts. I love making music, painting, reading, etc., for this precise reason. But with the offshoring and automation of many jobs, much of what's left is dull paperwork, and we'd be grappling for these jobs with the rest of the middle class (most of whom are probably also overqualified for rubber stamp positions). Meanwhile, a lot of the unskilled labour jobs aren't really available right now, so anyone less than overqualified hasn't got a chance! Or so we're repeatedly told...
-Not doing anything at all is just as creativity-stifling as working.
-What with all the competition for decent jobs, one must be bloody outstanding. In addition, one must be a hard worker. No sweat, so to speak. Except for the fact that "hard work" means doing twenty to thirty hours more per week than our baby booming parents had to. Then, with job markets, job types, and social dynamics transmogrifying before our very eyes, we as a generation (arguably) feel solely responsible for interpreting and forging our future. A lot of help from older generations is often technologically or circumstantially irrelevant. What a lot of us need most right now is for our parents to trust we'll survive, because we definitely need that confidence from somewhere!
-Lastly, and most importantly, I'm sitting on a bed of pine needles, and they're sticking in my butt. Obviously, it's a sign to conlude this ontological rant.
Post-teenage anguish is surely symptomatic of the terrible twenties in this present age. Perhaps this is due to the fact that life is clearly signposted until university graduation, at which point all direction drops away without warning. We are left up a certain creek without a paddle
or a map. In a jet boat. With no slower gears. Let's see where we end up!
Nature does nothing to reflect our hot, bubbling turmoil, thankfully. Spring sprang overnight: BAM, and the snow is gone!
 |
| Going for a walk along the California Aqueduct. Note the beautiful Joshua Trees, native to the Mojave Desert. |
The trees blossomed, vibrant California poppies popped up, and, from nowhere, birds and insects began to take up residence in the desert again.
Of course, just as the sun comes out, the time comes for us to retire indoors.
Coming soon: the California Department of Motor Vehicles, insurance agencies, and (eventually), departure!
Stay tuned!
The Quest Quotient by
Nancy Howie and Steff Werman is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
Based on a work at
thequestquotient2011.blogspot.com.
