Dissonant Pop Party and Work

June 16, 2010 § Leave a comment

I’m breaking one of my rules, which is to not write anything about my personal philosophies for fear of spiralling into the realm of Livejournal-esque ramblings. I justify the following by saying it relates to creating art, which I feel is relevant and I think others have felt similarly before. I suspect this is the disease of the young, followed by a related disease of the middle-aged that has to do with regret and desperation. As for the young, they are either foolhardy or always desperate.

Here it is: I’ve discovered that working a job five days a week makes me devoid of creativity. It’s kind of awful. I’m not even depressed, like I usually am when I’m working because this job isn’t loathsome like a retail job. I’m just too tired when I get home to do anything besides experience other people’s art: listen to records, watch movies, read books. This frightens me. It’s only a summer job, but eventually, I’ll have to have permanent gainful employment and I fear this state of mind will become forever. I’ll be the person who gets two weeks off a year and wants to cram every life-fulfilling experience into the 14 days and inevitably feel unsatisfied due to the impossibility of doing that successfully. It could be crippling, as I’d return to work feeling worse than before I holidayed.

Are these fears not legitimate? Am I just playing the spoiled suburban? I don’t understand how students can keep smiling with such prospects for the future. Perhaps you could suggest that they will find employment that satisfies them and that’s why they went to university. I went to university to gain knowledge for the sake of knowing. There is no job waiting for me once I graduate. I’m about to enter my fifth–and last year–of university and the thought of finishing terrifies me for the reasons above. Will I do what a large percentage of people seem to do after they graduate, which is stagnate intellectually and regress emotionally? Will I choose one opinion for everything, and hold on to it, no matter how conditions change because I’ve failed to keep up with the world? Will I only read mass-market paperbacks and justify every stubborn and bitter thought by saying I read some classic novels in high school? I already say “when I was your age” to teenagers. These are similar, only more fully-fleshed out anxieties to those I had when I graduated high school that in turn led to a year of depression and another year of complete apathy.

I find beauty in art of all sorts, and I hope that’s the redemption. I just want to be able to contribute. Where is my energy and creativity? I don’t want to stagnate. Reading usually leads to me writing. I’m hoping that all this looking at other people’s work will kick me out of this creative rut. It still doesn’t quell my fears about the future of potentially spending most of everyday doing something I dislike (as most of the world does) and the rest of it catering to my basic survival needs, with nothing left. This isn’t a complaint about my current working conditions because my job is fine, but rather the system as a whole, as I recognize that it sort of freezes my ability to be pensive when prompted to be by something. I’m not paid to contemplate the world, and it’s discouraged unless the thoughts are directly related to the job at hand. It’s unnatural to the organic free-flowing functions of thoughts. My grasp of language is slipping away because I’ve been alienated from the conversation.

Okay, making this related to the focus of the site. I’ve been listening to Hungry Beat by Fire Engines, a late 70s-to early 80s Scottish (no surprise) post-punk band. Think Josef K and No Wave bands. The CD comes with an awesome write-up about the history of the band.

Julian also just sent me copies of three early Belle and Sebastian EPs. “Lazy Line Painter Jane” has become one of my new favourites by the band. (Why so much Scottish music?)


The Little Prince by Antoine Saint-Exupéry, The Secret Diary of Adrian Mole Aged 13 3/4 by Sue Townsend, A Room With a View by E.M. Forster.


Nothing. Any suggestions?

-Stay Gold


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