I have spent my twenties torn in between states of disillusion and bewilderment. But let me paraphrase Henry Rollins for a moment. In all my inherited fuckness, I think I'm doing OK. Things never really change after high school. We just crank the wheel of human condition a little bit more. Things change places, but the goals remain the same. Please people, making yourself as nice and pleasurable for the others. In high school, you had to have a sex life. And during your senior years you had to have projects. Trying out for professional sports, acting, television, big law firms. Sky is the limit for someone that never flew.
The twenties are an immense crash site. Egos are falling from the greatest heights and the wheel of human condition starts turning. Now, the important thing is to be happy. To tell yourself that where you are is exactly where you want to be, where you always wanted to be from day one. A false sense of completion. You have to have your own place, somebody you love, a kid and a straight road ahead. It's all bullshit, there's still what? Forty to sixty years ahead, for everyone of us? Granted we don't get sick, of course. Now I understand how old people are created though. People shielded against life by their living room, with no connection with anything outside, including their children.
If you want to spot these people, here's the main symptom of their mental aging disease. They are happy. Well, at least they say they are. I thought it was a Facebook related virus for the longest time, but it happened before even the internet. If you're happy, you don't have to convince anybody that you are. If you're happy, well, your happiness is enough for you. If it overflows, it will drip on people around you. You don't need to pour it around. Facebook is just a localized region of the issue. Have you ever read a Facebook status saying: "Watched the sun set with my hubby yesterday. I am so blessed for these small moments, luv u, XOXO"
I'm sure you saw this pass by at least once.
There are many iterations of this: "Had a cup of wine with my girlfriends. I have such good friends, I'm the luckiest." or maybe "My better half made me coffee this morning, I'm so blessed"
You know what I'm talking about, right?
Life is a road, it goes on and on, whatever your opinion about it might be. If you decide to sit down and camp, people still walking on the road, pass you by. As much as it depresses me to admit it, my capacity for dissatisfaction keep me alive and sharp. Being able to get angry, to break stuff (including faces) and to talk about it. Writing is all about putting distance in between what you live and who you are. Alienation, anger, sadness, frustration. Those are all feeling you must at least know if you intend to write. No one that I know, that is truly happy, has to write or even has to share it with people. They are nice, warm and cheerful, but they never discourse about how happy they are.
Whenever there's something to be written, there's something to be reevaluated. To be put in perspective and maybe changed. I'm growing older and my understanding of things, my not be broader, but more precise. I know my place, but I just wish I could be there more often. In front of Word 2007. It's when there's a storm that things get very clear. I plan to write someday about this desperation for happiness of people in their twenties. Probably right after I'm done with Solace.
The road is long ahead, but it's everything we have.
The twenties are an immense crash site. Egos are falling from the greatest heights and the wheel of human condition starts turning. Now, the important thing is to be happy. To tell yourself that where you are is exactly where you want to be, where you always wanted to be from day one. A false sense of completion. You have to have your own place, somebody you love, a kid and a straight road ahead. It's all bullshit, there's still what? Forty to sixty years ahead, for everyone of us? Granted we don't get sick, of course. Now I understand how old people are created though. People shielded against life by their living room, with no connection with anything outside, including their children.
If you want to spot these people, here's the main symptom of their mental aging disease. They are happy. Well, at least they say they are. I thought it was a Facebook related virus for the longest time, but it happened before even the internet. If you're happy, you don't have to convince anybody that you are. If you're happy, well, your happiness is enough for you. If it overflows, it will drip on people around you. You don't need to pour it around. Facebook is just a localized region of the issue. Have you ever read a Facebook status saying: "Watched the sun set with my hubby yesterday. I am so blessed for these small moments, luv u, XOXO"
I'm sure you saw this pass by at least once.
There are many iterations of this: "Had a cup of wine with my girlfriends. I have such good friends, I'm the luckiest." or maybe "My better half made me coffee this morning, I'm so blessed"
You know what I'm talking about, right?
Life is a road, it goes on and on, whatever your opinion about it might be. If you decide to sit down and camp, people still walking on the road, pass you by. As much as it depresses me to admit it, my capacity for dissatisfaction keep me alive and sharp. Being able to get angry, to break stuff (including faces) and to talk about it. Writing is all about putting distance in between what you live and who you are. Alienation, anger, sadness, frustration. Those are all feeling you must at least know if you intend to write. No one that I know, that is truly happy, has to write or even has to share it with people. They are nice, warm and cheerful, but they never discourse about how happy they are.
Whenever there's something to be written, there's something to be reevaluated. To be put in perspective and maybe changed. I'm growing older and my understanding of things, my not be broader, but more precise. I know my place, but I just wish I could be there more often. In front of Word 2007. It's when there's a storm that things get very clear. I plan to write someday about this desperation for happiness of people in their twenties. Probably right after I'm done with Solace.
The road is long ahead, but it's everything we have.
