Current State Of Mind - 3/15/16

If you are hoping to find guidance, or direction in life, then please for the love of gawd backspace outta here! This is a canvas for the disjointed, undecided, and totally confused thoughts that have taken up too much residence in the prime headspace of my Craniumtown.

I have no clue what to do with my life. No, that’s not exactly true: I have too many ideas of what to do with my life, but no concept of prioritising, and plagued with indecision, which leaves me akin to a fat penguin, floundering on ice.

FLAP FLAP FLAP.

I think the problem comes from the fact that I’m too easily swayed. I talk to my family and develop a picture of a future with a traditional degree, stable 9-5 job, wearing ties, summer getaways. Exposed to my friends for too long, and I’m coming up with blueprints for our newest food sensation (Kabab Biryani, patent pending). Having an extended chai break with colleagues, and I’m either committing myself completely to work from that moment forth or thinking of immediately handing in my resignation and doing “what I really want” to do.

Trouble is, I don’t know what I want to do. Being the soon-to-be twenty-three old that I am, I am expected to have it all figured out: career; priorities, both professional and personal; long term goals etc etc. But I don’t, and that’s the fact. I’m rather defiant in my indecisiveness. Because that’s just it, I do want to do all those things. I want to be good at the job I’m in, get the degree my parents want, I also want to write, and cook, and travel, and get a phD! But I am told I can’t do all of that, and need to pick one path. And honestly, with age or maturity, or my increasing jadedness towards life, I’m coming to terms with that.

I’m really not happy about that.

Couple days back, I came across this article by a writer for the economist. In it he was comparing the working styles, and priorities of his generation and his father’s. I related heavily to it considering that the writer (Accountant Dad, Economist-Writer Son) was pretty much me from an alternate universe, with a few minor tweaks.

He talked about how his dad worked till retirement (just like my Pa) and that the financial reward from his job was his main priority. For the writer however, he wanted emotional satisfaction as well as financial gain, something which baffled his dad. And it’s true, my generation is very much focused on finding not just a job but something which has meaning, makes them feel important, that they are making something, or bringing about some change. That they matter.

I was fully on board with the writer, as he extolled the virtues of letting his work dominate his life, because it made him feel good and alive, he got to interact with interesting smart people, got to tackle challenging problems, live in a capital of the world, socialise with high brass, the lot. I thought that this is the good life that I want, this is what I’m working towards, and that society will appreciate me for it.

I shared this article with my fiancé-to-be, and she saw it in a different, and honestly mind-blowing way. She said that she saw it as an addict justifying his addiction.

I gave it another read, and I saw it as clear as day. The writer tried really hard to be unbiased and it showed: he wasn’t just preaching the virtues of his life-style, he was balancing it out with what he was losing as well. Every facet of life was dominated by his professional occupation. Everything from relationships, to moving to London from North Carolina to be closer to the Economists HQ, social goals, late working hours, were all motivated by and related to his career.

This made me think, when does hard work become workaholism?

For me workaholism would be slaving away day after day at a job that I don’t like or appreciate, where I feel I’m not making a change and that it’s ultimately pointless in the grand scheme of things. However, I would consider working day and night on my own business or project as dedicated hard work.

It’s all based on perception. Long working hours are the norm today, and society appreciates how work-oriented you are. It is considered a sign of having your priorities in order. We want our actions and choices to be justified by others, and what better justification is there than “everybody is doing it”. If you go against popular opinion, you are derided and punished because you call into question everybody else’s choices as well. And people are generally averse to introspection.

I asked my dad if he thought he was a workaholic, and he said yes. He thought about work most of the time, and it weighed on him. I asked him if he would have taken a lower paying job to get better hours and spend more time with his family or on himself. He said yes he probably would have but also that he gets plenty of time now.

He pulls a 9am to 7pm on average, and works at least another day most weekends.

I’m not saying at all that my father is an unhappy man, or that I’m judging him for his life. It’s this very life that has allowed me to live in utter luxury, which in retrospect may be the reason behind my predicament.

My father’s goal was financial gain, and he worked extremely hard for it. He provided for his siblings, and his family, to the extent that by the grace of god and the universe, we have never wanted for anything.

I’ve never been hungry, or cold, or faced even a shadow of poverty. My father did, and he worked his life to change that.

Maybe that’s why I don’t have the amount of motivation he does, I have never needed to struggle, and everything was given to me, so I don’t know what it is like to strive for something greater. It seems paradoxical, as most popular motivation theorists say that if your physical needs are met, you have the potential to work even better and accomplish even more. Yet I define my life with the same mentality of financial gain being the only worthy objective, and working being the only noble pursuit.

My father said that retirement scared him because he wouldn’t know what to do with all the time. I’m afraid of all my time being eaten up by things I don’t want to do. But I’m scared of taking action and changing my life around, because of the reaction of others, and how I would be perceived as a failure, or a quitter, as somebody who is deluded and doesn’t have their priorities in order. Financial considerations are also a factor, considering the social lessons of wanting more, more and more are ingrained in me from birth.

Wanting more is equated with surviving, maintaining the current standard of life. The only improvement to this situation is assumed to be more of everything. More possessions, more friends, more respect. We are terrified of the assumed alternatives, that we would lose all that we have acquired.

We don’t explore the full potential of our futures because again, we are scared of failing. Sticking to the straight and narrow, to perceptions and life-styles that are seen to be working is the safe thing to do. Sylvia Plath said it best when she described life as a branching fig tree, with each fig representing a path that she could take. But picking one fig meant losing all the others. Plagued by indecision, she waited at the foot of the tree, until all the figs fell off the tree, dead.

Being undecided is okay. Being inactive isn’t an option. I’m taking steps to get out of the slump I’m in right now, giving myself a platform from which to do something I want to do, when I figure it out. I don’t have to conform to the rules if I don’t want to. I have to be aware of that means though. Maybe I won’t have the same material assets that my counter-parts do, not the same level of social acceptance they would enjoy.

But I think, I would be happier.

And isn’t that what everything’s all about?

To Settle

The go-getting age we live in is focused on one capitalist construct: getting more. Be it more material possessions, achievements, accomplishments whatever, the idea that is pervasive is that “more is better.”

There is a fundamental problem with this. See, all our lives we are told that we have to accomplish certain goals in our lives to be considered successful. The social norm generally defines these goals as ranging from getting a degree, getting a job, getting a house, getting a spouse etc. And once you have accumulated enough of these, congratulations! You are now successful and happy!

Surprise twist! You are not happy.

Because the struggle never ends.

Once you have accumulated enough of these, let’s call them “milestones”, you see that woah, everyone else is also gathering milestones. And these milestones are “better.”

My excessive use of inverted commas is meant to highlight the subjective nature of these words; a whole separate debate can be head as to what constitutes “better” and of course people in different areas and with different socio-economic backgrounds will obviously have different milestones.

Back to it! Capitalism thrives on competition. It’s the underlying factor: that the best resources will be used in the best way to generate the best outputs. So apart from vying to be the “best” in terms of production and business rationale, this behaviour bleeds into all spheres of life.

Another factor, also the by-product of a capitalist system of economy, is the culture of consumption. The entire socio-economic landscape is specifically paved to sell you things. Bigger, better things.

Combining these factors creates a rather dangerous consumer mind-set. That there is no such thing as enough. There is always more, hence I must want more, because everyone else “has more”, and my social standing is determined how much more I have.

Bringing this back to the topic (finally), the concept of “settling” is considered despicable. To settle is to stop wanting more. Meaning that you are going against the normal social mind-set. So you are automatically considered a rebel, a trouble-maker.

Here is what I present: if you don’t settle, you won’t be happy. Rather you won’t achieve happiness.

Now happiness is considered a destination by most, and the counter ideology is that happiness is a way of life; happiness is found in your everyday routine, because “how one spends his days, is how one spends his life.”

If you are consumed by the never ending quest for “more” so that you can look good in the eyes of society, your happiness is already being determined from external sources. So there goes your sense of inner strength and peace. This is against the happiness is a way of life idea.

If you are never satisfied with what you have, how are you ever reaching that promised land of happiness? And this counters the happiness is a destination idea.

So with either ideology, consumerism kills happiness.

 What I propose is that “settling” is not something to be maligned, rather embraced.

I get the difficulty of the task, because me saying that word right now is making me grimace.

It has too much bad juju attached to it.

So, let’s use an un-biased term: attaining.

I believe once you have accumulated a certain amount of milestones, the quantity and quality not determined by external perceptions but from a true introspective view, then you have attained and happiness is within grasp.

See its simple, once you have attained, you are no longer struggling, you don’t have the nagging doubt that you don’t have enough milestones, because you have the confidence that the milestones you do have are enough for you and your needs.

Obviously developing that independent view is hard work and frankly impossible for some. Not saying that’s a slight on them, but the way that society operates is so conditioned to a specific lifestyle that it just doesn’t tolerate new ways of thinking.

I think that material possessions, and let’s be honest, most settling is in relation to acquiring material goods (better car, bigger house, hotter spouse you name it), material possessions lose their value the more they are acquired; a curve of diminishing returns in other words.

You must have experienced this for yourself: you work hard in the pursuit of a certain goal, and once acquired, it loses its value rather suddenly. This is because the expectation that you build up during the pursuit to keep yourself motivated to keep going, seldom lives up to the real thing.

Some people relish that chase, and don’t find peace and solace once that goal is attained.

If you stop chasing, and are satisfied with what you have, your milestones will have that much more value to you. You would value the car you have, the house you live in; because first, you won’t be comparing your belongings with other people’s, which removes the stigma you might develop for your own stuff; and because your mind would be freer from materialism, and focus more on other pursuits also crucial to you being a well-rounded person.

Hence, to conclude (rather lamely, I know), settling is not a sin. It should be the way of life. Settling means that you have found, or at the very least trying, to find peace and make a home with what you have, beyond mindless competition. Most importantly, that feeling comes from within you, making it all the more potent and eternal.

“And I settled for her. And she settled for me.”

-          Passenger

It's been four and a half years

I was actually kinda happy today.

For like a moment.

Well, it's dead now. Shotgun to the back of the head, axe to the chest, buried alive in a damp ditch, the works.

The one thing i avoid thinking about is comparison. And guess what is the anvil and the fucking hammer?

Comparison to highschool batchmates. How they will be finishing university and starting jobs, and their lives this year. While i am here, right between nowhere and pointless.

All hail, the fucking competition! Who will be the king of the mountain of shit?!

I didn't want to do this shit, that is abundantly clear.

I used to be the star student remember? What happened? What changed?

It bothers you? it stings ... you?! No no! Please tell me more! I'll just sit here, pulling tighter the fraying seams of my fucking chest with my fucking teeth.

I'm not working hard enough, i don't want this hard enough, my heart isn't in it enough.

I shouldn't deceive myself, yes? Double standards much?

But here i am, in the shit, doing it. And i'll fucking do it. i don't really have a fucking choice do i?

I do feel like my life is on fucking pause right now, and i'm just waiting for someone, something, anything to hit that play button. Get me moving.

But no. Thermodynamics at play. Inertia, you heartless bitch.

I try and do shit, i really do. Exploring myself, the things i can do, the things i can learn.

I picked two new today. Just today. Today could have been the day i got my shit together.

Had a good feeling about today.

Sorry, nope, just distractions of course. Trudging through the shit is the noble pursuit. I am an undisciplined idiot. Ruining my life.

They are leaving me behind. Leaving me behind for what? Modern day slavery? Well la dee fucking da.

I said, hey! i know! i'll do my own shit!

Fuck you they said. Do the normal thing, the safe thing, the boring shit. We say this out of love, we do.

Well, fuck that.

I'll do it fucking all. And i'll fucking show you.

-

And when she asks what she should do? I'll say to her: you tell me baby, what's our adventure for today?

Migraine

You ever have that pain which you can feel behind your eyes?

It prods and pushes, always there.

It's happening right now. Tiny sounds echo inside the empty halls of your cranium. Your head feels like its an anvil. Not that an anvil is resting on top of it, squeezing down on you, no, your head is the anvil squeezing down on your neck, your spine, making your eyes pop, teethe grind into dust, until you are a pulpy splatter.

Bile bubbles at the base of your throat. You feel a burning cold. Your toes go numb.

The funny thing though? Is when the physical bleeds into the emotional.

The pain makes you think funny things. Not ha-ha funny mind you, more like "we are all going to fucking die fucking painfully, isn't that fucking hilarious" funny.

Your brain is mush. It's stale pudding in your head, coming out of your ears, eyes, mouth and other orifices you didn't even knew you had. Your temples are protruding like throbbing horns.

Your eyes cant focus. You cannot look at a single point for more than a second. They move independently from one another. Like seeking escape form the sinking ship that is your mortal coil.

Bile

Do you want me to stay?

You want me to go, make me want to leave.

You want me to stay.

Lie in my bed and take my home from me.

Confusion-borne frustration. Mixed reactions.

Barbed words.

You hurt out of love. Do you? Is it?

I can be there, I will. I am.

You don't see. Why would you.

Duty crosses love.

Dilutes chemical romances.

You should have-

I should have been a better son

This highway of love ends at resentment avenue. No reverse gear either.

I could never back unscathed anyway: the mirrors are wrong. Always wrong

I can puke this juvenile shit and spread the bile evenly across the page. Let the chunks collect, pick out the scraps of last night's truth.

Should I cry? I always do don't I? Remember?

You know what's best for me.

You want what's best for me.

Maybe that isn't you.

Maybe it scares you. Eats you. Remove your very purpose and identity.

Have my choices ever mattered? Do they now? Should they?

You were to be my anchor, keeping the doubts sunk in their swamp.

Unfettered words cause such rust don't they?

Doubt now raises the black and pillages my shore.

You can carve out my life, fashion me a puppet.

You can't see the strings can you? Its magic.

Make me dance for them.

It's about them, isn't it?

I'll dance, play the part, put on a show.

For what?

A speeding staccato of applause? A commendation?

I don't need those, don't want them.

They were yours to take anyway.

Nothing left for me.

I can pull out my pockets if you'd like.

Empty, see?

Even the vomit is at the bottom now.

The Facebook Way

We don't need friends any more. We need an audience.


I have been on a permanent sabbatical from the accursed website for a week now.

There has been a marked improvement in my life.

For one, i actually have time on my hands. Before, any free moment would have been consumed by the azure headed demon. Now, i can go to other websites. Or, read a book. It's a big difference, trust me.

The fact that i dont know what everyone is up to every waking moment of every fucking day is liberating to say the least.

Have you ever felt shitty after going through your newsfeed? Of course you have. If you say you haven't, you are lying and shame on you.

The reason is simple and quite scientific (numbers are involved!).

We only post the flashy, good stuff of our lives on FB. So we can make everybody jealous obviously! Now, that flashy stuff is lets say half of our lives, on average. Meaning that everybody has shitty days too. But you dont get to see that on FB now do you? One does not simply post that his haemorrhoids are acting up (unless you are going for the sympathy likes, but even then, butt stuff doesn't really garner the same appeal as say, my puppy died).

From your perspective, your "friends" have incredible fantabulous lives. And, comparatively, you are a piece of shit. Boring shit. You dont have one awesometacular day after the other, like everybody does apparently. No, you have got to scrape out the dishwasher and look after your racist, yet ultimately un-entertaining, uncle. Not good FB posting material.

The result: Low self-esteem for you, pangs of jealousy, strained relationships, an inability to prioritise your life, regret, and eventually death.

Simple question: How many hours has this succubus drained from our lives?

I really do not want to know, my self-esteem has barely recovered.

As mom shouts at 3.30 in the morning, "JOIN THE REAL WORLD, DOOFUS!" She cares ever so much, bless her.

She has a point (and an incredible booming voice). FB, and by extension other virtual social spaces, are not real. They are no substitute for actual human contact. And you've all heard this drivel before and i highly doubt this piece will convince anyone of you to actually change your habits.

Introspection is a dying art.

Just do me a favour? You know that person you actually give a shit about? Next time you think of them, instead of liking their post, call them. Don't even meet them. Just give them a call. Trust me.

Yes, i do happen to be anti-corporate and no, i am not "hating" on FB just cause. It kinda saved my uncle's life. No joke.

But it is a tool. A tool being misused. Use it for the base communication device that it is, instead of the attention sucking/seeking quantum singularity it has become today.

I have no hopes that this will change anything. But hey, what's the harm in trying?

There are many videos and pieces out on the interwebs made by smarter people than i, who explain the problem so much more eloquently.

Try some introspection. It just might better your life. No pressure.