Tagged: passion

Bullshit

Do you ever think about just how big the world is? The endless possibilities, wonder, risk; the beauty and terror of it all? We spend our entire lives preparing ourselves to enter adulthood; what kind of personality do we have, what interests do we possess? All of the pieces of the puzzle are slowly but surely collected so that we can be “successful”. So we can “be adults”. What is success, exactly? What determines when a person has become the epitome of what that they have been preparing for?

What is the purpose of this life? Do we really spend the majority of our lives worrying about what school we’re going to only to subsequently worry about what job we’re going to get?  Then we move on to worrying about if we’re doing well at our job. If we’re going to get promoted. We compare fringe benefits with our friends and discuss whom received the better interest rate on their mortgage. We get burnt out. We  count down the days until retirement.

Is this it? A string of responsibilities followed by more commitments, more stress, more man-made obligations?

What is the alternative? Money makes the world go ’round. Money affords us the pleasures that we enjoy in between the obligations. We are dependent upon it. To live. To let loose.

Work and responsibility equal self-worth. You work; good. You work more; better. You’re stressed? You’re busy? You don’t have time for the things you enjoy? Good. You’re doing something right. You’re motivated. You have work ethic.

Why are these things intertwined? Can one not be mature, responsible and driven without succumbing to the traditional American dream/lifestyle? Why can’t we be passionate, spontaneous, artistic, free-spirited? We can; after 5pm. After cooking dinner. After errands. After the laundry. After something.

We are the land of the free and the land of the confined in the same breathe. We are confined to these pre-determined paths that are neatly laid out for us before we can ever really choose for ourselves.

School. More school. Work. Work. Work.

We work 50-51 weeks a year with one week that we can enjoy (mostly) uninterrupted by obligation. We offer up 40+ hours a week of our lives to these obligations that forced themselves upon us only to have seven days to ourselves?

 

I call bullshit.

 

xo,

A

 

 

 

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