I have commitment issues… commitment to my own life issues. Which is strange for someone who has held long-term monogamous relationships pretty much since she was old enough to menstruate.
You see, I have a lot of trouble committing to a path in life. I’m a wandering, meandering soul, I suppose you could say. It’s always seemed as if almost everyone around me has picked a path for themselves, is confident about their path and has a pretty certain existence. It’s not that I want this, because it appears as if most people in this country are so obsessed with making their life a world of certainty and predictability that they are half-alive. However, me on the other hand, every month it’s something new: a new career I want to pursue or a new idea of how I can live my life as some wandering explorer as a leather-tramp or forest dweller. One day I want to join the Peace Corps, the next I’m considering enlisting in the military. One day I want to be a homemaker and the next I want to be a nun. I’m quite serious about all of this too, I’ve literally considered all of the preceding life paths, sometimes in the same week.
I am about to graduate from college with two hardly-useful bachelor degrees. I wish someone had just convinced me to go into a trade, I would have been much happier doing something with my hands or seeing the product of my work right before me. Nonetheless, I listened to my parents, my family, friends and society and I went to college and pursued two ridiculous degrees, all because I was afraid of picking a path that deviated from the norm. Great! Now I am qualified to work as a bank teller, when I was just as qualified before dedicating painstaking hours studying for exams. I’m still afraid of deviating from the norm, and I feel like I am stuck and slowly descending into sinking mud.
What the fuck, man. When did I get here? I’ve lost my joy, my passion, my love for life. I’m slowly dying, just like everyone else and I always thought at this age I’d be in some exotic, foreign country, living off the land and helping the native people.
But also a thought to consider, maybe I really don’t need the adventurous, spontaneous life I’ve dreamed up in my head to be happy? Maybe my problem is that I do not know how to be happy with what is here, and now?
I live my life in my head, in a world of idealisms, hopes and dreams, bouncing from one exciting life path in my head to the next. I’ve never met someone quite as aimless as me. I mean, I’m sure I’ll be able to find a job after college, one that pays just enough to cover the bills. But is that seriously what life is all about? Is this seriously what everyone thinks it’s all about? Becoming a slave to this lifeless system, our reward being a shiny new car that is just as subject to decay as our own withering bodies?
I walked through an upper-class neighborhood today and I slowly passed by beautiful brick houses. I took note of their trim, landscaped lawns, their prized BMW and Mercedes cars resting safely atop their smooth, concrete drive ways, and the meticulously chosen ornaments which hung proudly in their large bay windows. I also saw a young couple with their son, who looked to be about 10 years old. With his new Cadillac in his driveway, his gorgeous home, wife, and kid, you think the father would be happy, but he looked quite miserable as he angrily spoke to his son and joylessly entered his home bearing a heavy, solemn face.
Why is that often times the poorest people seem the happiest, and the richest seem the most miserable, and more importantly, why is that the rich don’t ask themselves this same question? They are too busy accumulating, hoping that the next new object will cure them; they desperately hope that the new summer home, the next vacation, the next fancy meal, and the next affair with that beautiful male or female will fill the gaping hole in their hearts. It never does.
It’s not just the rich either, people like me, a young woman who isn’t rich, but isn’t poor and has really never lacked for anything, I too cling to experiences, objects, food, people and whatever else to fill the emptiness in my heart; However, at least I am aware of the fact that this clinging is a totally and utterly futile endeavor.
It seems strange though, doesn’t it? That we’re all going to die, and could die any moment, and we just keep acquiring and cherishing new objects and titles, and relationships, as if they will last forever?
You see, even this blog post exemplifies my commitment issues. I jump from one idea to the next, unable to cohesively address and elaborate on one chosen subject. Whatever… I’m going to try to at least commit to this blog, It feels right this time… although, I’ve tried before and it hasn’t quite worked out.
I will probably mostly rant and ramble about my own philosophical thoughts and self-involved reflections. Maybe someone out there will relate though, and it will help them too… that’s my hope.