“Heard about the guy who fell off a skyscraper?
On his way down past each floor,
He kept saying to reassure himself:
So far so good… so far so good… so far so good.
How you fall doesn’t matter.
It’s how you land!”
The best years of my life are behind me. That kind of fatalism is something that you would expect to hear from a 30-something management executive during a “difficult breakup” involving the custodial loss of the family cat. However its something that I feel like I might almost be ready to say. Crack open a bottle of red wine, bang on some Smiths, give me a bunch of 30-something friends that will sympathize (though only slightly) with my existential crisis, and I’ll feel right at home … in five years.
As I rush into the world of corporate advertising, and invite into my life the aches and pains of being a corporate sellout for a boss that cares only about the bottom line, all the while silently congratulating myself on my (inverted commas) success, I wonder: what is it I’m rushing towards?
The guy in my new favorite coffee shop thinks I’m at uni. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I’m not. Truth is, I like the fantasy. This world of management, written warnings, proactive plans for 2008, and the endless meetings and sales calls is NOT what I signed up for! How did I get here? And why am I so pleased with myself?
My fantasy new years resolutions:
- Quit work.
- Go fruit picking in South America.
- Join the circus.
- Circumnavigate the globe.
- Be strong enough to say: “Fuck this! I refuse to work in advertising just ’cause I can’t work in film.”
“Good Evening, this is your captain. We are about to attempt a crash-landing. Make sure your cigarettes are extinguished, and your tray tables are in their upright position.”
I have recently realised that the low opinion I have of my fellow work-mates is just an unhappy transference of the low opinion I have of myself.
I keep telling myself that most 22 year-olds don’t have this kind of lifestyle (i.e. that of the corporate sell-out) because they haven’t gotten to that stage yet. However, I am also acutely aware that not all people my age feel the need to sell out. My financial insecurities are the direct result of my unavoidable need to sell out (instead of taking the brave leap in being artistic). In this case, I’d love to blame my parents.
Truth is, I can’t really even blame them.
Perhaps thats why I feel I need this blog. It’s as if I feel that if I don’t keep this blog regularly and indulge those parts of myself that feel most neglected– if I don’t specifically exercise those parts of myself that feels stifled and ignored during my everyday existence (i.e. my artistic side, my passionate side, my addictive side) then I will cease to be myself.
“i am satisfied hiding in our friends apartment,
only leaving once a day to buy some groceries
daylight i’m so absent minded
nighttime meeting new anxieties
so am i erasing myself?
hope i’m not erasing myself”
And so I come to the true reason for the existence of this blog, and the reason why I feel the need to keep regular additions to it:
I feel that if I don’t express those parts of myself that I believe to be most truest and worthy, they will wither and shrivel beneath the weight of this cruel, 9-to-5 world. This blog is an affirmation of the belief that I am not just another worker-ant in the global knowledge economy … that the contrbution I have to make is more than the some of the division of my genes and the monetary value I accrue for myself and my offspring.