The grocery store was flooded with young married couples this Monday, many of them younger than myself. It was terrifying. I can't expect a mundane chore like grocery shopping to reflect the deep beauty of their marital union or anything, but their expressions and posture just seemed to epitomize banality: a long, slow death. How could you possibly need two minds at a time dedicated to the choice between Skippy and Jif?
The problem with a woman who claims to enjoy domesticity is that all that nonsense is actually important to a person like that. I can't imagine the boredom of shambling through a department store behind such a woman, being consulted about which shower curtain "we" want.
Likewise a woman who really knows how to paint her face and tousle her hair just right, and does it absolutely every day; that can be admirable, until she opens her mouth and you find out everything she isn't thinking about in the time it takes her to get that done.
Or those kids who kill themselves to get into business school or law school or medical school even though they couldn't give a crap about business or law or medicine; who somehow manage a 3.95 GPA while learning absolutely nothing interesting (I'm looking at you, Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.)
I have some admiration for tight schedules and early mornings, the stuff we are told temporal success is made of--but in conversations with that sort of person, I have to wonder just what occupies their thinking in quiet moments. We have sixteen hours of consciousness in a day, and it can't all be aimed at accomplishing your five-year plan.
These are not unintelligent people; are they really just endlessly running over their to-do list and mentally checking their pockets, all day long? Even on the john, or at the bus stop? Certainly they aren't thinking about anything else, or they'd be more interesting to talk to.
And if that's the case, can such a creature really be classified as sentient? No matter how sophisticated the solution may be, amoebas and crustaceans and roundworms have for millions of years managed the same problems effectively enough. Ants know how to get things done. I need to get out of BYU.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
Well, man, all I can say is that marriage tends to be equal parts wonderful and equal parts hard. I personally get ill in malls and I married a girl who'd probably love to shop there professionally. I wouldn't be too quick to assume that the man shopping for peanut butter is really into it. He may just be keeping the peace.
I remember when I was at BYU I used to sit in the Wilk and remind myself how awful their hot chocolate is and fume reading their editorials in the Daily Universe and look at everybody at the tables around me and wonder if they too are such mindless cattle and if it might not be better for me to get out of this (at times) creepy institution.
I've since thought that I was a little (ok, wildly) judgmental and that it could very well be the case that the freshman girl over there with 3.99 GPA might be thinking the same exact thing.
I'd say that if I could redo the BYU experience I probably wouldn't. Strange to say, BYU was spiritually crippling for me and I have yet to totally recover. I think some spirits only prosper in environments they perceive to be hostile to their values, and I'm one of them. Once I feel safe and coddled I immediately start seeking out some adversity where ever I can find it and find it I did and it wasn't what I needed.
Anyways - the long and short is - don't drink the water. You know who you are and if you think BYU is going to be incompatible with your personal happiness (or your spiritual wellbeing) you should definitely check out your options. There's a lot of good schools out there.
If you stay - just bear in mind- you are not alone there. There are people who feel that way - like me.
ALSO -
One more theme in the post - and I know this is a rant but just in case it reflects personal feelings about reality -
Money is important. Whatever you want to do in life - just make sure you know how you're going to underwrite it. Now's the time to decide. It gets MUCH harder later.
There you go. I've gone and been a blogging parent. FAIL. ;)
Sir, why do you have eight blogs?
Post a Comment