Every once in a while, I like to step back and take stock of where I was, where I am, and where I'm going. As a non-affiliated heathen with complex theological beliefs, I've chosen to celebrate astronomical events (the solstices and equinoxes) by evaluating my progress (or lack-thereof) as a human being and by renewing my commitment to constant improvement.
The summer solstice is a time of both joy and sorrow. As the longest day, it should be celebrated; yet the solstice is also the tipping point for darker and colder days ahead. This dichotomy is also true in my personal life. My wedding anniversary with the Breadwinner reminds me of how lucky I am to be able to share my life with someone who I respect, and who respects me. Yet there's another, darker, anniversary now as well. A dear friend of mine, four years ago today, died with no warning on the baseball field of heart failure. We laughed when he passed out at his own wedding, a symptom of the defect that killed him. I cry whenever I think of our naivety.
Such sudden changes put life into perspective. The focus of this blog has basically been bouncing between me complaining about the inanity of my existence (and, despite my previous post, not actually DOING anything about it) and posting random scientific information that I find interesting. Have I been creating value? Even if Lachesis has measured me a long length, I haven't been living my life with urgency. Yes, patience is a virtue, but complacency/conservatism/fear of change is most definitely not. What do I want to accomplish? And what is preventing me from doing it?
The Past. What do I most want to put behind me? My complacency? My inactivity? Yes, but primarily the feeling of helplessness, of realizing that things aren't as they should be but not being able to doing anything to change. I've applied for a job that I'm over-qualified for that I think will make me happy. It's here, and if I actually get it (unlikely considering the competitiveness of the job market and my "non-traditional" editor experience), it will complicate things with the Breadwinner's New Venture. But I can't sit back and wait anymore. I'm not going to instigate a full-fledged search, but I had to do something.
The Present. What am I doing right? What should I continue? I like that I'm writing - this blog, my pathetic "novel". I remember being a 10 year old sitting at my Mom's old typewriter writing short stories about teenage detectives. I remember being a teenager writing horrible black melodramatic death poetry on an old IBM. My writing, however poor, was always a constant in my life, a way to focus my thoughts and stoke the coals. And then I went to college, and I stopped. Too many late night drinking binges perhaps? I lost my faith in myself. Not that my writing was ever any good (because I always knew I stunk) or that anyone would ever want to read it (because, honestly, how many poems can you possibly read about drowning in a bathtub?). I never wanted anyone to read what I wrote anyway - it was so personal, such a part of me, that letting it go would leave me exposed. But I let my self-criticism (criticism has always been one of my strengths) quash even the desire to write. After all, there's no need to fear mockery if you mock yourself first. So anyway, I'm glad that I'm writing again. I missed the feeling I get by creating something, and who knows - maybe future generations will find my crap and think I'm an unsung genius?
The Future. Where do I want to go? Who do I want to be? I was wondering the other day of what the me's from the past would think of the me today. The Kindergarden me wanted to be an astronaut. The 8th grade me wanted to live in an English castle, with a PhD in English literature, and be a writer. The senior-in-high school me wanted to be a scientist, and teach undergrads. The college-graduate me wanted to cure cancer through immunotherapy. And the post-PhD me? She didn't know what she wanted.
All of these versions of me do have one thing in common though - they'd be disappointed with my current life. The high school senior me had planned never to marry, but I most certainly wouldn't change marrying the Breadwinner. No version of me ever wanted any children, but I wouldn't change my decision to have the Spawn. They certainly wouldn't have wanted to live in the suburbs. OK, I'd change that one. But the common thing about their vision, about MY vision, is that I've always wanted to live the type of life where I'm making an impact - the type of life where even if I don't succeed, at least I know I've tried. I've always wanted to lead a life of adventure, to travel the world, and a life of culture. By not having a goal, I've stalled.
Again, a diversion. My solstice-soul searching is supposed to be practical, and practicable, not quixotic. What do I want for the immediate future? I want to find a new job, where I can be happy and contribute. I will wait to see on my new application, and start to seriously search as soon as we know about the New Venture. I want to improve myself - read more books, work out more, go to more theatre and concerts, watch less TV, eat less junk. Seems doable with the proper motivation. I want to continue to improve my Chinese (I'm up to nearly 40 characters) and to actually play my piano. I want to meditate daily, and of course continue to write.
Which all brings me back to the beginning - perspective. After stepping back and evaluating, I'm not doing as badly as I thought. There's room for improvement - there always is. But I think my new path is the right one. Hopefully at the equinox, I'll have a whole new set of hopes and regrets. And if the Moirae decide to snip my string before then, at least I'll have lived with urgency.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Monday, June 8, 2009
Suburban Hell
Yes, this IS going to be a gigantic personal rant. Feel free to skip this post if you prefer more scientific fare.
I am experiencing what can only be described as ennui. I am so bored with the daily routine of my life that every time I empty the dishwasher or prepare the Spawn's lunch, I want to scream, jump, tear at my clothes. I hate housework. I hate that I can sweep the floors and they're dirty the next day. I hate doing the laundry - washing clothes just to wear them and have to wash them again. I hate the cyclical nature of it all. The tasks themselves are not so bad - mindless chores are actually wonderful times for mindfulness meditation. In fact, during my postdoc I actually relaxed during these common activities. But now, they're not an escape from reality; they ARE reality.
I guess it all cycles back to my job. A Journal is also a cyclical activity. I edit, review, critique, write, and just when I finish it's time for the next issue. Time to do it all over again. I need something linear, something creative. I need to feel that I've accomplished something, and that I can build off of what I've accomplished to accomplish something more - something better. What is the purpose of life if you can't make progress? I've tried, repetitively, to make this a "day job", to accomplish something outside of my occupation. I paint, and I like it. It's creative, but honestly - I suck. I've started writing a novel. But it's drivel. I've thought of trying to write something decent, but I really have nothing to write about. Where would I get my inspiration? In the bottom of the laundry basket? From my desk in the storage room? From Suburban Hell?
Because that's where I am - Suburban Hell. There should be nothing innate in living in a nice home outside of a dynamic and alive city that should result in this boredom. Boredom is an intrinsic emotion; it has more to do with the person than the environment. Yet everyone I meet lacks the passion and drive of my previous friends. Maybe people who choose to live in the suburbs are all stuck in repetitive uninspiring careers. Maybe years of being forced to care about the length of their grass and style of their curtains slowly erodes a person's intrinsic creativity until he/she becomes trapped in an inescapable pattern of thought. It could be like gravity - just as spending too long in a sub-G environment would prevent people from walking on Earth, years with no significant mental challenges prevent people from not only being able to, but wanting to, do more, BE more.
I'm approaching the event horizon, the point of no return where nothing can escape. I try to write, but even reading the scientific literature seems like so much work sometimes. Why bother? I don't need it for my job. It's so TIRING being bored - often I'd rather watch television than write or even read. I've been reading Marx for almost a week now and I'm making little progress. After all, there's always a baseball game on.
So what's the answer? I'm trapped in my job because of the Breadwinner - we're waiting on a possible change of situation that I don't want to imperil due to lack of patience. I guess I just have to maintain my angst for a while longer - until the Breadwinner's situation becomes clear. I hate placing the decisions of my life in someone else's hands, but I guess I just need to stay angry and discontent long enough (hopefully we'll know in 6 mos) to make my move. Until then, I hope I can maintain the motivation to survive Suburban Hell.
I am experiencing what can only be described as ennui. I am so bored with the daily routine of my life that every time I empty the dishwasher or prepare the Spawn's lunch, I want to scream, jump, tear at my clothes. I hate housework. I hate that I can sweep the floors and they're dirty the next day. I hate doing the laundry - washing clothes just to wear them and have to wash them again. I hate the cyclical nature of it all. The tasks themselves are not so bad - mindless chores are actually wonderful times for mindfulness meditation. In fact, during my postdoc I actually relaxed during these common activities. But now, they're not an escape from reality; they ARE reality.
I guess it all cycles back to my job. A Journal is also a cyclical activity. I edit, review, critique, write, and just when I finish it's time for the next issue. Time to do it all over again. I need something linear, something creative. I need to feel that I've accomplished something, and that I can build off of what I've accomplished to accomplish something more - something better. What is the purpose of life if you can't make progress? I've tried, repetitively, to make this a "day job", to accomplish something outside of my occupation. I paint, and I like it. It's creative, but honestly - I suck. I've started writing a novel. But it's drivel. I've thought of trying to write something decent, but I really have nothing to write about. Where would I get my inspiration? In the bottom of the laundry basket? From my desk in the storage room? From Suburban Hell?
Because that's where I am - Suburban Hell. There should be nothing innate in living in a nice home outside of a dynamic and alive city that should result in this boredom. Boredom is an intrinsic emotion; it has more to do with the person than the environment. Yet everyone I meet lacks the passion and drive of my previous friends. Maybe people who choose to live in the suburbs are all stuck in repetitive uninspiring careers. Maybe years of being forced to care about the length of their grass and style of their curtains slowly erodes a person's intrinsic creativity until he/she becomes trapped in an inescapable pattern of thought. It could be like gravity - just as spending too long in a sub-G environment would prevent people from walking on Earth, years with no significant mental challenges prevent people from not only being able to, but wanting to, do more, BE more.
I'm approaching the event horizon, the point of no return where nothing can escape. I try to write, but even reading the scientific literature seems like so much work sometimes. Why bother? I don't need it for my job. It's so TIRING being bored - often I'd rather watch television than write or even read. I've been reading Marx for almost a week now and I'm making little progress. After all, there's always a baseball game on.
So what's the answer? I'm trapped in my job because of the Breadwinner - we're waiting on a possible change of situation that I don't want to imperil due to lack of patience. I guess I just have to maintain my angst for a while longer - until the Breadwinner's situation becomes clear. I hate placing the decisions of my life in someone else's hands, but I guess I just need to stay angry and discontent long enough (hopefully we'll know in 6 mos) to make my move. Until then, I hope I can maintain the motivation to survive Suburban Hell.
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