A triangle has the corner, this is a cirlce!

My first blog: a random look into the rules set forth for us and how they affect our jobs, our minds, and our hearts. Ok, more like how they affect my mind...you may agree or disagree!

I sit in wonder once again, lost in my brain which lies perpetually in overdrive. I stand arrested in this life that, ultimately, provides a lot more questions than answers because I can’t ever seem to be satisfied with the simplified version of “happiness” that so many other people are wrapped up in; cozy and content not to really reach past what we’ve all been told is supposed to please us. For me though, it seems not enough. I’ve done all I was supposed to do, everything that has, for centuries gone, been passed down as some path we follow to achieve success and peace. What is this path really but a giant “to-do list,” a list of rules designed to plunge us deeper into the society that made them all up in the first place? Enter the turning wheel, the circle of life that produces and spits out the same people over and over again, based on some fabricated sense of “right”, some false morality that is based more on what someone else tells you is correct rather that on an innate sense of goodness. I got good grades in high school, I went to college and graduated with a degree, and then I got the job with the benefits and the 401-K. I still, however, seem to feel incomplete, seem to be searching for something more, something termed “happiness.” And so I find myself wondering, if I followed the rules and they didn’t produce for me, then what am I doing? Why am I sitting behind this desk, doing something I hate, continuously subjecting myself to misery via office life? I think this question has a multi-faceted answer. Partly I sit here because no matter how hard I try not to be, I am also bound by the rules of society. More simply put, I NEED MONEY, just like everybody else. I must live and pay bills and buy stuff. Ah yes, stuff. We have become a people so dependent on money and things of monetary value, we have fallen so in love with objects (possessions) that we put up with extraordinary daily disappointment in order to have them. What we don’t realize is that these possessions are merely distractions to block out our own misery. We may hate our jobs, but we have cool TV’s! I may want to commit suicide by stapler, but hey, these new shoes look great on me! I’m not saying that wanting to have nice things makes us bad people, but it does lock us all in a vicious circle. Let us not forget the actual necessities that also cause us to need our jobs. Food, shelter, and clothing all cost money folks, and none of them are getting any cheaper. Then, there’s the need for healthcare which means costly doctor visits and medications. The chance of illness or injury really keeps people trapped in the draining work cycle because, let’s face it, if you don’t have insurance, the healthcare industry would rather see you dead and buried than healthy and continuing to not overpay for their services. As for insurance companies, well, I’m not even going to touch that one right now, because frankly, I’d be here all night.

And so, the circle goes round: I work hard for what I need and even harder for what I want, so that, even though I’m unhappy, the things I want can distract me from how miserable I am with how hard I work in a job I hate in order to have the things I need. Quite a mouthful, I know! Ok, so being trapped in a job I don’t like because I have to survive sinks my boat, flattens my tires, however you may want to put it. So, why don’t I stop whining and just get another job? Well, I have several reasons. I do feel trapped in my position. The current economical state of life makes me fear looking for anything else. So often I hear people say, well, I’m unhappy here, but at least I have a job. Yeah, well, I am tired of saying that and it certainly doesn’t make me feel any better or cause me to jump out of bed in the morning eager to get to work. No matter how thankful I should be for my job, I still spend most of Sunday in dread simply because the next day is Monday and I have to go back. I spend a lot of time unhappy during what should be one of the happiest times in my life. I just moved into a brand new, beautiful apartment with a wonderful man that I adore! This should be a cheerful, exciting time for me, and I do find joy in him and in us, but I find myself still stuck in misery because now I am a true prisoner to a life I never really wanted and I feel even more trapped in my position. If I leave my current job, if I go after something else, and it doesn’t work out, then I am screwed. We are screwed. I never wanted to be stuck in a bureaucratic office setting. I never wanted the corporate world. This office job was supposed to be temporary. I wanted to do something mentally stimulating, something creative and worthwhile and beautiful. Something expansive. Something pure and true and all my own. Something I could choose to share with others and hopefully touch someone’s heart - someone’s life. I wanted to write. And I still do, but I again, am stuck. In my current state of mind, I often find myself in a complete mental block, staring at a blank page like it’s a stranger to me rather than a familiar friend for me to fill. I think my mind is rotting, from this place and this job and this life: a combination of decomposition that has killed my creativity and left me with nothing more than a need for new experiences. And sadly, almost comically, I’ve already written about that need, so now I really am hard up for material.
So, you may now be asking yourself, “If you know what you want, why don’t you go out and get it doofus?” Well kids, because it’s simply not that easy. Suddenly the stage is set with further uncertainty, and I, standing under the spotlight of rapidly approaching adulthood, can’t seem to come up with any valid answers. Hell, I can’t even write anymore, a skill that was always simple and natural to me. How can I possibly expect to answer anything complicated? I worry, first and foremost, that I am just not good enough. I have tried, in some small ways, to further a career in writing, but am continuously turned down. So then comes the question, at what point do I suck it up and realize that professional writing is just not in the cards for me? And, when and if I do come to that realization, what the hell do I do with this life? Ah ha, therein lays the difficulty and the confusion! What is a suitable backup plan? What else will make me happy? And, as if that’s not enough to answer, the questions continue. Within all these swirling issues lies another that I have not yet touched on. Perhaps the most important question yet: If I am successful, and I do turn writing into a career, will that take all the love and beauty out of it? Will turning my passion into a job ruin that passion for me? Perplexing and unsettling, here is a situational question I simply cannot answer until the situation becomes reality, becomes experience. I don’t know, maybe I’m being immature. Maybe these things, these questions, are just a part of life. But, that is not what I see. What I do see is most people being content with what is presented to them as normal; with what they are being told should please them instead of reaching beyond society’s rules of success and finding more. I cannot blindly accept that this is it for me and just happily continue in this mindless profession. I know there is something more. I just can’t seem to get there, but onward I go.