Frustrated: Part I

I have a few educated guesses as to why we’re depressed as a society. On winter break between semesters of graduate school, I went home for a few glorious weeks where I found myself overly frustrated with the lack of positive things to accomplish, not an uncommon situation for me, I like to move at 100mph. An indefinitely suspended license (due to the aforementioned craving), and the absence of a readily available vehicle, would have pushed me into a more dangerous psychological category, except that I didn’t want to tap into my savings account to buy gas anyway. Had I been mobile, I would have been able to pay visits to the few friends of mine who are just too lazy to drive the extra 10 minutes to pick me up for lunch or a drink; or  I could have driven to the malls to spend money I don’t have on things I simply don’t need.

I know there is much beauty to be found in the world, and I generally tend to maintain a state of sanity by focusing on such characteristics, but for a moment let us peer into the dark corners of what our culture has become. Television networks might as well just run commercials for 24 hours a day because we’d be privy to about the same amount of substance . . . in fact most advertisements of late have better production quality than the shows we catch glimmers of between them, and what does this say about our priorities? “Buy the new Toyota Highlander, it’s all the rage, it’s a vehicle that makes my parents look cool and the best part: its got an entertainment center in the back so you flip on some god-awful unrealistic piece of mind-numbing drivel, throw on an oversized pair of headphones and shut your parents the fuck out because they don’t want to hear you any more than you want to be nurtured and properly parented. Who wants to actually interact socially with people of a different generation? What could they possibly teach you?” . . . but I watch this shit too. I lay in bed until the wee hours of the morning because my mind won’t shut off and I can’t seem to get to sleep.

I got sick the Sunday before I left to come back to Boston where I pay an outrageous amount of money for an education I could receive at a community college in a field that I’m not quite sure should exist, but I need the paper and the name to lend credibility to my ramblings. I contracted the flu by way of some jackass who failed to cover his or her mouth when they coughed. I recovered, but my irritation has yet to subside. There is no way of knowing who failed to execute this most routine act of civility because common courtesy is impossible to properly instill on a population our size. Common decency and common sense go out the window when the only objective in life becomes making and spending money. There is precious little time, too few opportunities, everywhere you’re going is the most important place to be, and everyone around you is just slowing you down or in your way. Fuck us all, right? I’m aggravated by the way that we treat each other and the shit that we shovel down the throats of our children, first, because I have no control over the messages we send them, and second, because they’re the next version of us . . . judging by our influence, that’s a terrifying notion.