I have been hiding in the sweet sanctuary of our air conditioned office for the last three hours, doing nothing but skyping with my family, staring at facebook pictures, writing a blog, (click on that one, please) contemplating the nature of twitter, the destruction of genuine relationships, and ironically, through facebook, I came upon this article detailing the demise of creativity in Americans.
I would like to write them a thank you letter, but I'm not putting the stamp on it until something comes out of it. For instance, a new institution where the creatively challenged can go to learn how to imagine a better world.
One of the things I talked to my mother about was my general black outlook on the world. I'm going to lay it out straight, because this is my blog and because I can. We, the thirty-ish and under, got a shit hand dealt to us. Maybe it is the job of every 30-ish year old person to recognize the holes in the ground and either start filling or keep pointing and hollering about it, but in our case, I feel like this is really, really ugly. Really ugly.
Really really god awful, monkey faced, warty toed, monster ugly.
I don't think I need to go into details about all of the crappy worldwide troubles that are amongst us. The world has always had troubles and will keep having troubles until we finally burn it to the ground or fill it so full of garbage we abandon ship, WALL-E style. What bothers me the most is exactly what this article is talking about. People are less inclined to make things interesting. No one is succeeding when they take off on the road less traveled. They pack their bag, promise to write, and the next you hear they either succumbed to a cube-job because they needed insurance or worse, you never hear from them again. They've landed so far and so deep in the hills that they're only interested composting their own poop and catching rabbits for supper. They've signed out of society. Tell me, please, how is the five percent of persons who refuse to play along going to change anything?
I was talking to Nikos, a driver, about his prospects of the future of Greece.
"It's going to be very bad. It's already bad and it's going to be worse. Our children don't have a future. They're signing themselves into slavery. Greece is going to have a difficult road ahead."
an interjection that is maybe not, maybe, yes, related. I asked him next if he ever considered leaving.
"Me? Leave Greece? Never. I'll die here."
His patriotism was moving, but what I took home was his opinion of his child's future. It's obvious even to him that our future lies in boxes.
One possible explanation for my miserable view is my own disappointment, which is personal. Maybe it's not fair to shove on everyone else my mediocre advancements and cellophane ceilings, illusionary opportunities and bad decision making. Maybe if you talk to the artists who are making it today, they will describe an interesting world that is rife with new media, new adventures in sociology, fascinating new developments in the human experience.
I say they're blinded by their own padded pockets, but moreso, I say that the people who are saying this are few and far between.
It's difficult to say what's caused this hardened view on things. The six year old version of myself would not approve. She would wonder when I stopped drawing stars and playing MASH (ps, I had no idea there would be an online version. Mosty I was hoping for a Wiki explanation for my friend and reader, Despina, who might not get the social context)
My mother voiced the slightest alarm at the possibility that I was growing cynical. She wondered if it might have something to do with the fact that I was making a go in a country whose culture wasn't mine, whose ways I don't know, and I say, well... maybe. But probably not.
The world is the world. I think, actually, I would be even worse in the states because on top of being disappointed, I would be sleeping. Most of the United States is sleeping. That's how they get through their days.
I'm going to say to you, and to my mother, that while this might all sound very dark, I still see the beautiful. Every day. Yesterday G and I stopped in at Melilotos and found Despina and Kostas hard at work. (Harder after we got there. I swear I'm her Chinese cat, bringing luck and business.)
I found two clear crystals on the table.
"What are these?"
"Oh, I have a thousand. The homeless guy pays for his meals in crystals. Wait...I'll show you."
She disappeared into the back and reemerged with a two plastic carry out dishes full of old chandelier crystals. She dropped them on the table.
I was laughing with such delight, partly at the absurdity of it and partly because the inner six year old was so happy to see so much sparkly...
She held up a very large one shaped like a diamond.
"This one was for many meals."
The phone rang and she answered it to take an order. I was grinning like a cheshire cat at G.
"I love this," said I.
But even more than this, I love that Despina is the kind of person that takes crystals for currency. Despina is creative. If only we can be gifted a few more Despinas...the world might stand a chance.
If I could just understand how to do my part, how to make a dent in the wall...
