- Nov 10, 2013
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- United States
The young urban professional is as good as any cliché sitting in his or her padded cubicle sitting behind his particle board desk staring into a spread sheet conceived in the pit of hell. A calendar is pinned to the gray felt walls of the cubicle, each month revealing a new white sandy beach in some Paradise they can only dream of.
Rent or a mortgage along with their lease on life eats up an entire paycheck leaving a bigger debt to pay next month until the inevitable bankruptcy filing forces them onto the street or back to their parent's basement apartment.
One of the ironies about taking a quick trip to Paradise is that once there, too many find that they are completely clueless about what to do once they've checked into their hotel room. Their room is essentially an uncluttered version of what they left behind with a window displaying what they had hanging in their cubicle. Some are able to walk out the door, down the beach, and perhaps even make it into the water for a swim. Others can't help but grab some piece of technology to fiddle with. They may take some pictures to upload to their facebook page, or they'll grab the comforting remote control to see what they're missing on television.
The air is clean and supercharged so their heads begin to clear as soon as they arrive, but they still don't know what to do because they must do something while they're there. So they go on tours where they listen through a thick accent to a thumbnail historical narrative peppered with an anecdote here and a finger pointing to something that must be saved to their smartphone for posterity.
The tour is exhausting, and the next few day's festivities prove equally as draining with a hike here, a boating excursion to swim with some of the local marine life, paragliding, rafting, a surfing class, and on it goes until it's time to get back to that cubicle except now that calendar's beaches don't look so alluring anymore. They represent exertion, and exhaustion. They represent a paradise without the modern amenities and conveniences which for them is no paradise at all.
There's some sort of disconnect for them though as they see others on television or the internet who seem to be strolling along one of those remote locations with practically nothing and somehow enjoying themselves. How can this be? How are they able to seemingly relax under such Spartan conditions? From the comfort of one's living room, the tropical beach setting looks attractive, yet simultaneously the lack of artificial structures suggests a desolate foreboding and everlasting loneliness.
For some the tropical beach setting is a potent reminder of their inability to venture beyond the safety of their technological utopia. Modern conveniences comfort us in, and compensate us for our isolation. We will gladly pay our tithes to Mammon for whatever reprieve we may find escaping the encroaching helplessness and lack of control in ourselves and the world around us. When the latest app for our phone, or the newest upgrade for our computer or household software no longer satisfies our longings for added comfort and control, we turn to the only option left for those on the road to perdition; suicide.
Perhaps it's part of our royal dna. Perhaps those who see no point in the struggle are descended from royalty and a genetic predisposition to wealth and abundance doesn't mix well with one of indentured servitude. Even the slightest deprivation can elicit an astounding amount of pain and suffering that is intolerable for the pampered monarch that isn't allowed to reign in all of us. We're all winners until someone sees they're a loser, and despite society's protestations to the contrary, the dream is over, and waking up cast, and crying over a soggy bottom, their reputation's self image besmirched, ridiculed and ruined, their only salvation perhaps blood will cover with a bullet.
It seems more than just a popular solution.
Society announces a transparent disclaimer
while denouncing the slightest hint of failure
with recommendations of public displays
of bitter penance and prompt banishment.
Hypocrisy needs a mirror to clean,
but compels the Accuser to conceal
what the mirror reveals.
Rent or a mortgage along with their lease on life eats up an entire paycheck leaving a bigger debt to pay next month until the inevitable bankruptcy filing forces them onto the street or back to their parent's basement apartment.
One of the ironies about taking a quick trip to Paradise is that once there, too many find that they are completely clueless about what to do once they've checked into their hotel room. Their room is essentially an uncluttered version of what they left behind with a window displaying what they had hanging in their cubicle. Some are able to walk out the door, down the beach, and perhaps even make it into the water for a swim. Others can't help but grab some piece of technology to fiddle with. They may take some pictures to upload to their facebook page, or they'll grab the comforting remote control to see what they're missing on television.
The air is clean and supercharged so their heads begin to clear as soon as they arrive, but they still don't know what to do because they must do something while they're there. So they go on tours where they listen through a thick accent to a thumbnail historical narrative peppered with an anecdote here and a finger pointing to something that must be saved to their smartphone for posterity.
The tour is exhausting, and the next few day's festivities prove equally as draining with a hike here, a boating excursion to swim with some of the local marine life, paragliding, rafting, a surfing class, and on it goes until it's time to get back to that cubicle except now that calendar's beaches don't look so alluring anymore. They represent exertion, and exhaustion. They represent a paradise without the modern amenities and conveniences which for them is no paradise at all.
There's some sort of disconnect for them though as they see others on television or the internet who seem to be strolling along one of those remote locations with practically nothing and somehow enjoying themselves. How can this be? How are they able to seemingly relax under such Spartan conditions? From the comfort of one's living room, the tropical beach setting looks attractive, yet simultaneously the lack of artificial structures suggests a desolate foreboding and everlasting loneliness.
For some the tropical beach setting is a potent reminder of their inability to venture beyond the safety of their technological utopia. Modern conveniences comfort us in, and compensate us for our isolation. We will gladly pay our tithes to Mammon for whatever reprieve we may find escaping the encroaching helplessness and lack of control in ourselves and the world around us. When the latest app for our phone, or the newest upgrade for our computer or household software no longer satisfies our longings for added comfort and control, we turn to the only option left for those on the road to perdition; suicide.
Perhaps it's part of our royal dna. Perhaps those who see no point in the struggle are descended from royalty and a genetic predisposition to wealth and abundance doesn't mix well with one of indentured servitude. Even the slightest deprivation can elicit an astounding amount of pain and suffering that is intolerable for the pampered monarch that isn't allowed to reign in all of us. We're all winners until someone sees they're a loser, and despite society's protestations to the contrary, the dream is over, and waking up cast, and crying over a soggy bottom, their reputation's self image besmirched, ridiculed and ruined, their only salvation perhaps blood will cover with a bullet.
It seems more than just a popular solution.
Society announces a transparent disclaimer
while denouncing the slightest hint of failure
with recommendations of public displays
of bitter penance and prompt banishment.
Hypocrisy needs a mirror to clean,
but compels the Accuser to conceal
what the mirror reveals.
