I’m Happy to Report that Life is Not Like the Movies

More than a few think pieces have been written on the jarring nature reality has had on my generation. The bulk of these pieces have focused on the hilarity of coddled Millennials trying to make it in a world that won’t give them everything they ever wanted all at once. On one hand, I can’t disagree with some of the complaining from the older generation about the youngsters. We were raised with a pretty strict social contract. Our parents begged and pleaded with us not to end up as hapless hippies with no job. With a few exceptions, most of us went to college and did well in that sphere. We did as we were told and when we got out we looked around the good jobs we were promised and told could be ours and found that the world had changed.

While we were working hard, the world had changed. Companies had downsized, off-shored, and simplified. The recession amplified this trend and in a short-time having a degree wasn’t good enough. We worked our asses off, made sacrifices, and found that the things we were promised were all lies. Just because you start a business doesn’t mean it will be successful and just because you pursue a field of interest doesn’t mean you’ll land on your feet. Life offers no guarantees. Perhaps I’m merely late to the party on this subject.

For myself, I guess I thought adult hood would be like Friends or Seinfeld. Those 90’s shows gave me a view (or at least so I thought) into what “real life” would be like. It never occurred to me that my childhood was real and that what was on TV was fake. It was highly paid comedic actors telling jokes in real life situations that were setups for the comedy.

It was not real life. Somewhere along the way, I forgot about that.

Somehow I think we figured that we could look as amazing as Carrie, be as funny and ironic as Rachel, and just go from fun moment to fun moment and at the end of the day we could gather with our friends and use the laughter to numb the pain of existence. If we just had good people around us then we could survive this thing called life with laughter and aplomb.

Reality is of course far different and much less unforgiving. 

There are friends of mine I can only text because I moved out to the Pacific Northwest. If I can have a pleasant evening with my local friends once every few weeks then I’ve done well and count it as a positive. People are busy and have a lot to do. Finding social time can be difficult. By the time the week is over most people are ready for a rest, not adverse adventures with hilarious endings.

In writing this I feel stupid and a bit silly and I hope that my readership is forgiving. I have been away and I’ve been slow to write here. I’m still trying to find my voice in the world of regular work and routine. I did find a job and it is a good job. I’m still reeling from it though. I’m not used to having no time during the week although I think that has more to do with my long commute than anything else.

I’m an early riser now, around 6:00 AM and my eyes often pop open sooner. You do get more done when you get up early but I won’t write an article extolling the virtues of early rising. I’ve got my clothes laid out the night before to save time in the mornings. My lunch is already packed in my big blue steel lunch box. My lunch box might be carried by one of the steel workers that works at the steel plant behind my office in West Seattle. I drive up using one of many routes I’ve found to get to work. I walk in the door around 8:00 AM and set about my many tasks for the day. I leave at 5:15 or 5:20 and if I’m home before then I’m happy. I run the occasional errand and I relax and try to eat before playing video games for a brief while before climbing in bed.

Rinse and Repeat.

At one time I felt like I was living. I don’t miss worrying about money constantly and I don’t miss the non-stop constant drama that is living in the world I’ve lived in. Someone is always having some problem or some drama. It comes from scraping the streets for survival. I spend my days with pleasant people in an office that gets a little hot in the afternoons. On the weekends, I can find ways to keep busy, find pleasures, or work on projects around the house.

Is this life?

Is this all there is?

How long can I live like this?

I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?