I recently read an excerpt that boldly predicted the future of younger generations-
Those who have multiple skillsets will be more likely to survive the next industrial revolution because computers can only process one thing at once. Blah blah blah.
In this post-covid purgatory, I am impressed if someone my age does two significant things in the same week– even if they are habitual. And being interesting is no matter of survival.
I hope the computers do take our jobs. Perhaps the machines will get so good, that we’ll have to pause and focus on getting better ourselves. Has this frigid era of trauma without hedonism and entertainment without pleasure not become quite a bore?
You’re frozen in time and the hangover that kicked off 2020
I still dance in the hoopla that the focused sight and a “work hard play hard” mantra means I’m destined for success. I’ve kept it up for well over a decade now and I won’t stop. Though it is a whole lot harder than they made it out to be when was a kid. More recently, you reminded me that it was easy– because none of it mattered.
I make a vow to my future love that we will manage our children’s expectations. We’ll see what happens– everything seems to matter less now and yet it feels much harder.
Over the last two years, there have been times that I find myself impressively uninspired. Painting feels messy and writing proves to be an emotional toil that lacked a certain cathartic high. It’s how darned hard I have been working.
Friends lost are forgotten in our concerted effort to succeed in their honor. It’s how darned hard I had been working.
I once ridiculed those who can’t find the time or energy to carry on— at work. As the clock ticks and turns, so does my stomach. I’m behind. There was no limit to our output.
It’s not a comparison of success or tragedy that exhausts me. It is the expectations and goals that I set for myself, at a very romantic age. And it’s those moments, God forbid the end result having had anything to do with my effort or focus, that we were so close.
It’s a peculiar phenomenon to lose the one who looks up to you most. Loss is no matter of life and death– it is an eventual and enduring inattentiveness that drives what we call closure.
It pains me to see so many people close to me, in their 20s, impressively down and depressed. Having truly fought for something, they are defeated.
I still revel in glasses of wine or the once perfect cigarette and human connection. It took me 1,000 listens to realize the new Alt J song reminds me of you. Constants are far and few between in this sleepy dystopia. Imagine if the computers do take our jobs and suddenly we all take a moment to reconcile.