Wound up in a wheelchair in July; whatever.
Daisy and Tom were careless people. Considerate of the world around you isn’t something you need to be, when you live in the lap of privilege and luxury. Daisy had herself a eurosummer after killing Myrtle and letting Gatsby take the fall. Suppose our english teacher chose gatsby to teach to a class of teenagers in private school for a reason.
‘Careless people’, echoing in my mind since I injured my tailbone so severely I’m still not walking straight, 30 days later. It was a Saturday when it happened. I wasn’t doing very much. Although it could have been any other day, and it would have made no difference. I’m not doing all that much these days, I don’t work anymore. I quit my 9-5, f-you hustle culture, I’m pursuing my passions, woo!
Except, well, idk.
Being ridden to bed for the better part of a month leaves you with not much else to do but go into your own head. So I’ve been reflecting. On my life as it is, the people I’ve been, the stepping stone decisions that brought me here today. I was being careless when I fell. We were (or, we are?) careless people, my friends and I. Rich kids, now on the cusp of thirty.
In racing, they say that rain is the great equaliser. Rain means the most powerful cars cannot rely on their power, because there is no traction… it all comes to down to the driver’s skill. Well, they also say that in your thirties, truth is laid bare. Whether you spent your 20s building or lazing, pretending or striving… it all becomes quite plain to see when the tide recedes.
What was I looking for when I decided to leave my job? I wasn’t enjoying it, I didn’t see much meaning or fun in what I did, I didn’t even really need the money to be honest. I told myself I’d take the time to figure out what I really wanted to do. The honest truth, I can tell you, I’ve not really been doing much of anything. Just throwing myself into my hobbies, this and that. Most of the time it’s great fun.
Other times, I miss hard work. I can already feel my mind starting to blunt; I’m less sharp, I care less. It’s easy to put a task off by a day, a week, a month… it’s all very comfortable and I love my freedom, but there’s an ever-present ringing in the back of my head.
A small guilt starting to build: I’m not living up to my potential.
We’ve all seen that line from white lotus:
But I think, comfort can rot you. Cocooned and isolated in your comfort for too long… it starts to strip you of any connection, motivation, ambition… Barely 30, able-bodied and fit, and I’m striving for what, … comfort?
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This has turned into a bit of a ramble without any real structure or conclusion. I guess that’s where I’m at in life right now too. It feels good to write again.
How’re you doing?
Is there any job you’d consider yourself passionate about? And for which you’d be willing to work hard?