The Problem with Growing Up

By "problem", I don't necessarily mean to connote a wholly negative perspective. I just mean to say that we encounter an issue. That issue being: What do I do now? Depending on the individual, the decision may be predetermined. It might be based on directions a person has already taken, or capacity, or pressure from family, or perceived expectations for the particular socioeconomic status in which the decision-maker finds him or herself. Ideally the decision is based on personal preference - if you want to be an astronaut, be an astronaut.

Now, it seems like a pretty obvious statement that the latter group is the better group to be in. But now I'm not so sure.

I learn the most at lunch.

Sitting down for a sweaty Harvey's-wich and a 4 dollar bottle of tap-water with Shockwave Dave has, without exception, been the most enlightening part of every day at university. It's at those times that we both unravel the riddles of the universe and muse about what could have made that bottle of water so darn special. One lunch we developed a framework for policing inept professors that would improve both enrollment and the quality of education, while costing the university nothing.


These lunches were really something.

Well, one lunch this past winter, Dave and I were getting into one of our usual critiques of the education system, and it turned into a discussion about the whole life system. The "go to school so I can get a job so I can have a family so I can continue working till I die" system. I'll spare you some of the details, but the crux of it is that we didn't buy it. Basically, a big WHY? Why do we have to spend some of the best years of our life being taught things we don't care about? So we can get a piece of paper that says so?

It doesn't seem like quite enough.

But, the way Western society works (I mean actual Western society, not University of Western Ontario society, which is another post in itself), it is enough. And this is the game you have to play if you want to succeed succeed in it.

But, anyway, out of this discussion, came the decision that we wouldn't buy into it. That we would only follow what we were passionate about following, and screw all the rest.

Before this lunch, I wanted to be a doctor, and I didn't have to question it. By every parameter set out, this was a good decision. I would be financially stable and able to support a family, I would be able to help the rest of society, and so on. But after lunch, its not so much that these reasons disappeared, but only that I was left without an explanation for them. Perhaps I do want a family, but now that I've renounced the rules, I better come up with a damn good reason why.



You see, before, I had a framework in which to fit my decisions, but once I've abstacted away those external pressures, I'm left having to explain my reasons to myself. And I definitely can't bull-shit myself. This is the problem. Without some external pressures to suggest a direction, how could you possibly make that internal decision to be passionate about something you've never done? How does every science student in first year university claim to know that they want to be doctors, and actually believe it?



In 2006, the first science class on the first day of first year university was Biology. There were 800 students. The prof asked, "How many of you want to be doctors?" 800 hands went up.



I was walking home from the library with a friend after a 12 hour study day during February mid-terms this year, and I was pretty burnt out and fed up. I explained my predicament to this friend.



"I think I want to be a doctor. It seems like the right thing for me, but I don't know why. How to I know that it's what I want to do versus years of either real or perceived external pressure from society, or my parents, for example, that have just sort of seeped into this life decision?"



My friend decided to complicate the issue further. He asked, "Just because you're aware that the forces pushing you might not be ones you've chosen, why does that make them bad? Maybe you just need to be content with a direction that seems good from all those angles, because until you've done it, I don't think you'll find your explanation."



And I found myself envying the owners of the other 799 hands.

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The Case of the Mysterious Co-worker

Unfortunately, this post had to be removed. I realised that the person in question, through a roundabout series of friends and acquaintances, could obtain knowledge of this post, and the point of this blog is not to antagonise anyone. That being said, I decided to take it down so as not to potentially upset anyone. But, the point remains the same; Seinfeld is the sheez.

More posts coming soon. I'm working on straightening out some thoughts from the past week into potentially coherent rants, so we'll see how that turns out.

The Green Hornet

There was a car.

It was a dark green 1991 Dodge Spirit, and it lived up to its name. It was alive and kicking for almost two decades. This car was known to man as The Green Hornet. It was my first car, and it was really quite special.

It had two previous owners, one of whom was my brother. The owner before that was a friend that really meant a lot to my family and myself, embiggening the car with heaps of sentimental value.

Anyway, this car got me through third year in style - the caution tape on the trunk, the spike on the hood of the car from when my brother slammed the hood while a headlight-bulb was standing on the engine block, the fickle radio with a heart of gold - it truly was a chariot of kings. But, as with many other 18 year old cars, it was eventually flipped the bird by Father Time and as I write this is being crushed into a small cube.

This car was often one of the only places where I could really organise my thoughts, and think them. But, with the crushing and all, it's a little tougher these days. So, in the absence of several thousand dollars to reconstitute the car into a functioning machine, I have opted for a much cheaper, albeit less driveable, solution - blogging.

So, with any luck, this will help me organise my thoughts about life, God, and sandwiches. So, be prepared for some directionless ramblings.