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.