Friday, October 26, 2012

The Pursuit of Happiness


If you ask a foreigner, especially a European, they’d say Americans are neurotic. Which is true, of course. Most of the world doesn't really get the “on time” idea. Time is irrelevant when life is being lived. We Americans worry and obsess over our near and distant futures that we forget the ‘why’ in our mania over the ‘how.’ That is, when achieving a goal trumps the process of achieving. We’re so concerned with… well, we’re just so concerned. We’re going places quickly, we’re crunching for deadlines, we’re skimming to get through it. We’re left at the end thinking there’s just not enough time in the day to get everything done. But, what exactly are we getting done? What did I actually do today? I went to a class that quantifies my knowledge and ability to perceive into a range of five letters. (My sociology class is rationalizing and standardizing me. Hilarious!) Then I spent two whole hours trying to get a discount on train tickets that I bought to go see my family this weekend to postpone my inevitable nervous breakdown I’ll have from fear of failure in this crucial time in my life: college. Then I ate. Then I went to another class which is modeled entirely by bureaucrats, or “bean counters” as my professor likes to call them, because it’s a general education requirement for every degree here- so of course it has to be useless. They clearly weren't able to distinguish the difference between accumulating points and learning. Then I ate again. Then I went to an Undergraduates For Publishing meeting where, instead of paying attention to the author Q&A that the meeting was for, I found myself much more interested with what the girl in front of me was doing with her hair. She had some of it in this little clip and then slowly wrapped other groups of hair around it, to make this kind of swirly line along her head. Then she undid it. She did this over and over again the entire time. And I watched her- the entire time. Then I went back to my room, ate some more, got kicked out because my roommate needs to be in a cone of silence in order to go to sleep, and then finally ended up here, in the floor common room, where I’m writing this shit at 1:00 in the morning instead of doing my homework that’s due… today. And I sat, an hour ago, thinking there’s just not enough hours in the day, asking where all the time went. Where did it go? What am I doing? I’m trying to stay sane and alive in a place that I’m just using to get my degree to hopefully get a good job in a field that I’m hoping I’ll be able to stand for the rest of my life so that I can earn enough money to get my own home in which I can have kids and then save enough to send them off to do the same exact thing. And I call that happiness. I’m going to college so that one day I can achieve real happiness. People here always say that, don’t they? “What do you want in life?” “I just want to be happy, man.” And then they spend at least a good ten years of scurrying around, frantically keeping connections and building resumes to get to “happiness.” Foreigners don’t get it. They’re happy in that moment that they’re living in. For them, happiness isn't some distant notion that’s directly associated with the success of their pursuits. It’s just not about pursuits. The moment is there, given to them, and they choose to savor it. Do you think they have it right?

If you asked Freud, we’d surely be his next case history on severe neuroses. We’re abnormally sensitive, obsessive, tense and anxious. And yet somehow, America is the top nation in the world in just about everything. We are the world’s big sister (I say sister because we are much more involved with fashion and gossip than a typical big brother would be). If we go down, so does everyone else. When we have good times, the world has good times (well, except most of Africa- they’re kind of in a perpetual bad time). So maybe there’s something good to be said about anxious Americans. After all, we created the land of opportunity. Isn't that incredible? It certainly is.

If a neurotic nation can be so awesome, that makes me feel a bit better about my being neurotic. I’m a little bit crazy. I think way, way too much- spend a whole hell of a lot more time in my head than I should. It’s made me nuts. I’m in a constant state of worry about my near and distant future. And then sometimes, it apexes, and I wonder what the fuck I’m doing here. I’m always wrong and I’m seldom happy. I’m nothing more than the red ink on my papers- and the anxiety it causes- the noise in my mind that it creates! But as I walked into the common room, a profound silence hit me. The large windows that face the city were illuminated by the fact that the whole room was dark. I left my things in the entrance, and in a trance, made my way to the glass. I gazed outside and laughed about how silly everyone looked on the street, being so busy as they were, going home, or going to a club, or picking up some last minute milk. I thought “this nation is so neurotic.” And then I remembered how successful America is. How everyone looks up to us. How talented and beautiful and great we are. We are successful, and so we are happy. Happiness for me, for America, is synonymous with success. Naturally, that would make us a little anxious with the bar for happiness set so high. But we reach it. And we surpass it. And we reach it again. Within the responsibility of being awesome, comes the anxiety of meeting your own high standards.

It gave me hope that maybe I, too, can be great. That I, too, can achieve happiness- despite the fact that the pursuit of it makes me a little bit crazy.  

Monday, October 22, 2012

You Animals!


In this recent Lance Armstrong debacle, I’m kind of left wondering what his team is up to. Turns out they’re busy throwing him under the bus. But why would they do such a thing? I say they’re fed up with Lance and they've got their own asses to save.
USADA CEO Travis T. Tygart  in his statement Regarding The U.S. Postal Service Pro Cycling Team Doping Conspiracy claimed: “It took tremendous courage for the riders on the USPS Team and others to come forward and speak truthfully… But that is what these riders have done for the good of the sport, and for the young riders who hope to one day reach their dreams without using dangerous drugs or methods.” And then he goes on to list the 11 names, in alphabetical order, of the teammates of Lance that fessed up. What I take issue in is the motive that Mr. Tygart so certainly claims was behind these riders’ confessions. “For the good of the sport,” he says- “for the young riders who hope to one- blah blah blah, pathos appeals.” Has it occurred to anyone else that- has anyone ventured to think that- perhaps these riders are driven by a bit of jealousy? Perhaps a bit of blame defecting? Though as understandable as their actions of defense are, it makes them no less of a self-driven animal than Lance is being made out to be.
“For the good of the sport,” the teammates admit to their wrongdoings. I see it as a well-timed ploy to induce karma. It makes sense why they’d be jealous: Lance single-handedly won America (and much else of the world) over doing a sport that honestly, the majority of Americans don’t care for. (Well, for good reason: without Lance, we won’t win. And, as the Guardian Express Newspaper aptly puts it, “Americans don’t care unless we are in contention.”) He garnered so much attention and was paid immensely for it. The amount Lance made a year since 1996 (his great comeback) was about $12 million. That’s the same amount as the entire USPS pro cycling team budget. Of course, the entire budget didn't go just to lance, but, as retired Olympic cyclist Mark Gorski illustrated “Lance Armstrong commands a substantial salary and that [12 million dollar] budget includes Lance.” Basically, Lance is a star- a star in a sport that hardly produces stardom. He’s a star in a system of very un-shiny planets that are anyways at a disadvantage for shiny-ness because of the dark space they live in. You get the jist. He’s a star and, well, can you even name his teammates? Did you even know he had 19 of them? So, great, I’m a teammate of Lance Armstrong, I help him achieve his victories, I spent years and years training and dedicating my life to this sport and what am I worth? Certainly not the estimated $125 million that Lance is. That would probably piss me off- just a little. Not only am I worth much less than my teammate, but I can’t say or do anything about it because of his touching cancer story that elevated him to national hero. He makes me feel worthless and I can’t say a thing because he’s a public saint. I’d be especially aggravated if Lance really was doping. He really was doping and I, the team member, can’t do shit because no one will believe me- no nation wants to lose their hero. Maybe it’s not so shocking that his teammates threw Lance under the bus just as it arrived. Well, the second time it arrived. It came around back in 1999 when, supposedly, the UCI produced a positive drug test on Lance. But Nike allegedly tried to cover it up and proved successful as the story didn't stick. The bus kept driving and his teammates were still left in his all-consuming shadow. Finally, now, the opportunity comes to get back. Enough allegations were made and enough of the American people believe them. Now, with much more support from the public, the petty human penchant for jealousy is allowed to be called “the good of the sport.”
                “For the good of the sport.” Right. Maybe for the good of naiveté. For the purpose of keeping people ignorant of- or at least busy enough to look past- their own dirty files. They chose the exact right time to come up. They confessed their own sins when the country is consumed by the defiling of their hero much more so than of his scurvy crew. Lance was supposed to be a leader, a captain, and now his poor, helpless teammates are confessing their wrongdoings as victims of the times- of bad management. The American people, much more concerned with the team’s star, are letting the rest of the team slide off into the corner to quietly serve their little timeouts and slaps on the wrists. The team is adding fingers in the many that are pointed at Lance, diverting the blame from themselves.
                I highly doubt that Lance's teammates' actions are for the good of anything but their own jealousy and blame shifting. I have a strong suspicion that what Lance’s teammates are doing is driven by self-interest. Kind of like what lance was driven by when, and if, he was doping. Kind of like animals that do whatever it takes to stay alive.