I am not the master of this world


I feel somewhat confused at the moment.

For the record, I think it’s stupid that there is this expectation that everyone should know what is important to them and what they want out of life by the time they finish high school, and at the latest by the time they graduate from college. And if what they want to do, what is important to them, and what they want from life, do not correspond with what usually brings sufficient financial rewards, they should know how they are going to reconcile what they want to do with the world they live in – where everyone has to bring their pound of flesh to the table in monotonous regularity.

Citizens of the establishment hope – and expect – that everyone who graduates from the Schools of Middle-Class Education and Culture will take their places with full conviction so that an orderly and civil society can continue to be orderly and civilised. By this time, however, the Sages of the current incarnation of Civilised Society know that a certain percentage of middle-class candidates will search for paths that do not quite match what has been laid out for them. The Sages also know that most roads lead to Rome – not everyone needs to follow a conventional career to contribute their share to the maintenance and ultimate evolution of this society. And for those who insist on still not making a contribution, there’s enough space in prisons, or in the streets, or in shelters for the homeless.

Since I have never felt strongly about a life in prison or on the street, I’m also trying to find my way to Rome.

“Where’s the confusion then?” you may ask.

I would have been okay on my own, and I know what path I can take to get where I need to go – and the road even goes through the type of landscape from which one can derive inspiration every now and then. But deeply-rooted needs that ensured the existence of a million generations dictate that I must find someone with whom I can share the road. And, as we all know, the next generation starts arriving soon after, whether you have marked out your territory or not.

Confused I therefore am, because – do I want my children to have blond hair and Chinese names, or will I prefer for their mother’s language to be the same familiar sounds with which I grew up? And if not here, then where … and then what should I do to put food on the table?! And big sister wants a lawnmower, and little brother wants a pair of high heels! And my wife wants to buy more magazines?! And all I want to do is write … and good grief, here comes another one! When did this happen? I hardly have time to shave! I don’t think this Babylon was ever meant for me … but now it’s too late because they’re downsizing again! And I’m almost forty and all I ever wanted to do was … but then suddenly I didn’t want to be alone anymore! And I was still stuck on an island in the Far East and I thought the grandparents would also like to see their grandchildren once in a while! And then I had no choice … I had to roll up my bedding and start walking.

I am not the master of this world. Thus are the rules, thus is the game.