Wednesday, October 7, 2009

Our Time Broken Down

October 7th, 2009

Hey friends. I'm feeling philosophical, so try and bear with me. I actually thought about this last night, thanks to an eruption of coffee-educed energy, but we'll see what I can remember.

Rob and I were on the topic of capitalism. I have a pretty big gripe with it. We spend such a huge portion of our life working so that we can afford to live comfortably. But what is living comfortably? In our society, living "happily" translates into a decent house, being able to pay all your bills, take two weeks of vacation every year (!!), and perhaps buy a few fancy gadgets every once in awhile.

This doesn't work for me. Not because I want a ton of wealth. And not because I don't want to work. It's kind of the opposite. I rather have very little as far as money or possessions go, but do what I love for a living. Doesn't that make more sense?

Going back to my last post, Lanark presents this issue in an interesting way. In the novel, characters can obtain things by giving up time in their future. At first this sounded like pure fantasy -- but it couldn't be further from the truth. That's how capitalism works.

If you get your money by working 40 hours a week, like most people, it's really just a physical representation of your time. For example, my time each week translates to around $600. With that, I can pay my bills, buy camera equipment, or take a train into New York. But I lose 40 hours of my life each week in order to earn these luxuries. [Don't get me wrong, I definitely don't hate my job, nor do I have it tough. I just would rather be exploring the world and taking pictures. You know, the "dream job" scenario.]

Wouldn't it be nice to spend the majority of our lives doing things that make us the happiest? But I guess that's just not how America works. [At least, for most of the middle to lower classes.]

I guess the moral of this story is simple. Time is all we really have. It's our truest possession. Spend it wisely. I wish I had the cushion of a religion to comfort me with thoughts of an afterlife or reincarnation. But that's another story.