Thanks, little meerkat. I’m working on it.
Problem is, my generation (and the adjacent ones, I’m sure) is soft. We’re like putty. Our parents told us that we can “be anything we want to be.” Awww, does my widdle pwecious snowfwake want to be an astronaut doctor cowboy? Well, baby, if you wish it, you can be it.
Now there are a bunch of twenty-somethings (okay, me), who change their career paths every twenty minutes. Ad exec? No, wait: lawyer! I lied, I’m totally going to be a writer. Wait, no, speech pathologist. I LIED AGAIN: ASTRONAUT DOCTOR COWBOY!
Sometimes I wish we could revert to some kind of caste or feudal system. Can you imagine the freedom of not having existential crises every twenty goddamn minutes? You could just work on being the best serf you could be. And any time you had delusions of having a different life, someone would beat the thoughts out of you. Ahhh, bliss.
So, I guess what I’m getting at is: does anyone want to go to Joshua Tree with me?