So we’re supposed to live each day like it could be our last, right? Bit that’s not really possible. Not actually, realistically. We can’t. Unless you have a job that allows you to do so or don’t need a job and have no responsibilities. The concept of living each day to the fullest is very romantic, and I can definitely appreciate that, but who really does it? Not me, at least. (Which I’m sure you can guess is why I’m writing this.) I’ve always been fairly realistic, partially because my parents made sure I was and because I have a somewhat logical brain. Recent circumstances in my life have just brought it to my attention that I really have always thought that it was possible to live at least some days like they could be my last. I hadn’t realized how important it was to me that I feel at least somewhat important in my own world. I mean, feel like I’m doing something that makes an impact in some small way on mine or someone’s path in life. At school I never had this problem because I was participating in discussions and broadening my own knowledge base.
I currently have a job that fulfills none of my self-esteem or mental needs. I am the only person in the entire co-op that has no real importance. I feel the need to add that by doing my job I make my co-workers jobs easier. But that seems to not be enough. I’m glad I have a job. I know it’s difficult in our current economy to get a job when you really need one, and I have one. I’m grateful for that. However, any one of the people I work with can do my job in their spare time. Granted, they don’t have much of that currently, which is why I do in fact have a job at all. But that’s just it - I’m expendable. I clean and ring people up and answer questions (poorly) and clean. I do the little things that everyone else is too busy or too (the boss)to do. Which is fine, job gratitude and all. If I ever get to a point in my life where I feel like I’m too good to do any job, I hope I get a huge reality check. I’m willing to do anything that needs done and be fine with it. That’s not the issue. My issue is my lack of importance in what is currently the place that occupies much of my daily world. I think my issue right now is my disenchantment with the story we’re told about it being possible - if you try really hard - to live every day like it could be your last.
So I’ll say it again. It is simply not possible to live every day, or even most days, like it could be my last. I have created an internal defense for when I feel particularly insignificant and ordered around. I listen to certain music and have an internal dialogue with myself about how much I do what I want. I make plans to travel or to run away (something that holds a very romantic ideal in my head but I’d never actually do - realist, remember?)
But anyways, the conclusion I’ve come to is that I’m going to have to make the absolute most of Grad School. I’m going to try and be involved in lots of clubs and activities and I’m going to try and take advantage of opportunities. I may not be able to live each day like it’s my last, but I can definitely start living in a way that makes me feel like I can look back on it with no regrets. Because that can sort of be the same. Living your last day means (to me) that you do things you might not normally do. You test your boundaries, take a few risks, and enjoy it the whole time. What more can anyone ask for? I know that eventually I’ll be able to do that, so right now I’ll try my best to make the most of where I am and look forward to the time when I feel like I’m more in control of my life and decisions.
Because I do what I want!
So I’m reading Christopher and His Kind and he’s talking about “his first - and last - complete sex experience with a woman.” Afterward he talks about the internal debate he had about the possibility of himself liking women instead of men. He says,
“Do I now want to go to bed with more women and girls? Of course not, as long as I can have boys. Why do I prefer boys? Because of their shape and their voices and their smell and the way they move. And boys can be romantic. I can put them into my myth and fall in love with them. Girls can be absolutely beautiful but never romantic. In fact, their utter lack of romance is what I find most likable about them. They’re so sensible.”
Oscar Wilde shared this same sentiment. I’m trying to find a Wilde example in one of my books, but it might take a while as I have limited time. But Oscar often said or hinted that women were more sensible and grounded than men, which is why he preferred the company of men. Granted, this was also a school of thought that was fairly common in Victorian theory. Women were pure and sensible and there to keep track of their men. But I think there is something in the fact that both men specifically mention preferring men because women were unromantic and grounded in sense rather than what Isherwood calls his “myth” of self.
“Life-shaking words! When Christopher heard them, he was even more excited than Wystan had been, for they justified a change in his own life which he had been longing but not quite daring to make. Now he burned to put them into practice, to unchain his desires and hurl reason and sanity into prison … he did look forward to meeting Layard, but that wasn’t why he was in such a hurry to make this journey. It was Berlin itself he was hungry to meet; the Berlin Wystan had promised him. To Christopher, Berlin meant boys”
I’m reading this right now and really loving it so far.
we seem deaf to the rhythm of life.
I’m not sure the government doesn’t consist of psychos.