Note: This is my response to an article my mother emailed me from the NYTimes. Here's the link.
Mr. Brooks:
What a dreary, clinical portrait you conjure of the world in which I am about to enter. Two weeks ago, I received my BFA in Theatre; I have essentially set myself up for the least lucrative or "sensible" career available and I couldn't be more excited. I have waited two decades to throw myself into the maelstrom of adulthood and have it promptly and repeatedly kick my entitled behind; I am ecstatic. You say every sensible middle aged person would kill to go back to being 22--this may be the case. (Anytime I bemoan some menial college woe, my mother sings "I Wish I Could Go Back to College" from Avenue Q loudly and pointedly.) Given your tsk-tsk condescension for the typical 20-something wide-eyed idealism and "selfishness," I can't imagine what you find appealing about returning to the age of seemingly endless opportunity and exploration.
I think a return to college would provide quite a shock to the baby boomers. For my mother, "going to college" meant leaving suburban Texas for the broader, more diverse excitement of a college campus. For me, "going to college" entailed narrowing my metropolitan world to a bizarre, false reality of trust-fund babies and largely bored professors. Has college prepared me for life? Possibly, but certainly not in the ways my tuition-paying parents envisioned. My college experience has most significantly taught me that passion fuels progress. What did I learn from my tenured professors who were too jaded to challenge their pupils? That if I ever find life that dull, I'm doing a disservice to everyone around me and I need a change of career immediately. It is my suspicion that these professors became professors because they followed your ideology of doing the "sensible" thing. Unfortunately, their "sensibility" has squandered all sensitivity towards what education should be. The problem with eliminating passion from one's career is that it hinders not only what is produced but also the progress of those collaborating.
The generation that has raised us preaches theology that hasn't even necessarily led them to successful and fulfilling lives. Why follow the "sensible" or expected path if it hasn't fulfilled our elders? Selfishness is innate (and is often a means to a collectively positive end) and that is no more apparent than in a newly independent college graduate. I'm mostly confused about where you suppose "doing the expected thing" will get us. Why not pursue life as an artist (like yourself) or librarian or elephant trainer? Someone has to do these things; it may as well be someone who loves doing them. I recently had a childhood friend pass away in the tornado in Tuscaloosa; this has been a monumental reminder that we 20-somethings are not as invincible as we think we are. Our life could very well end as abruptly anyone else's. Why not enjoy the time we have? Why not enjoy the minimal responsibility we carry at the start of adulthood--without spouses or children or the need to take care of our elders. Why not travel? Why not experience the world? Why not share art? I know dozens of people in my parents' generation who did the right and expected thing and are no happier for it. A steady, selfless job (is there such a thing?) will not stop the world from throwing curveballs and catastrophes.
You say successful young people are summoned by problems. I am called by a solution; does that make my life less meaningful? Twyla Tharp said, "Art is the only way to run away without leaving home." Art often provides an elucidating or illuminating lens through which one may appreciate or learn about life. Most importantly, however, art provides an escape. And in a time such as ours, couldn't we all use some clarity and a chance to escape?
I, too, love reading biographies of people far more impressive than I, but what you and I find impressive seems to be diametrically different. I admire people who pursue what they love--oftentimes, this does indeed mean a more arduous life. Choosing passion over practicality is scarier and much more difficult than doing the expected thing. Do I admire excellence first? Yes. But excellence stems from passion, passion from pleasure, and pleasure from happiness.
It seems to me, Mr. Brooks, that you argue for a passionless, scared generation of young adults. Despite your advice, I anticipate working as hard as possible to ensure that is not the case. I choose passion, and I think it will be both in my best interest and to the benefit of others with whom I may share that passion that I do so.
15 comments:
I think you read that with a very hard line. Or maybe I read it with a soft one. You need to marry his article with your response to it, though. To me, his parting phrase "lose yourself" was THE message of the piece.
He wasn't saying to be steady and predictable and live a life devoid of passion. He was saying "Don't be a narcissist. And we, as a society, have set you up to be narcissists." And that is true. Very, very true.
You are entering a world that owes you nothing. Know this. Even if you have an awareness I don't think you know how much it bears repeating. And while I'm sure eventually, you will learn (we all do), I hope it doesn't happen for a long time. The world owes you nothing.
Explore and learn and be passionate, yes, but please, also be realistic. And allow yourself to be surprised. Don't be so all about yourself that you miss your calling. Don't be so wrapped up in who you are that you lose who you are! He was illuminating the mixed messages put out there by the world. Which is doing you guys a service, because they are there, those pesky mixed messages.
Believe me, no one loves passion more than I. Equals, sure, but no one loves it more. And Mr. Brooks... For the most part... Is right. About the floating thru jobs and cliques and all of it... When expectations of finding yourself don't match with reality. And even if you don't HAVE to consider someone else... You should not reject the things you don't expect, be open to everything. Lose sight of things being all about you... Contribute to society in meaningful ways that aren't all about you. Stop making everything about how you feel and where you are going and what you are doing. Don't be so damn committed to the "you". Lose yourself in life. Don't let life get lost in you.
You prove Brooks theory with your own logic.
Where Brooks writes, "Most people don’t form a self and then lead a life. They are called by a problem, and the self is constructed gradually by their calling," you write, "I recently had a childhood friend pass away in the tornado in Tuscaloosa." This sobering thought is followed by a laundry list of self-involved comments like "Why not enjoy the time we have? Why not enjoy the minimal responsibility we carry at the start of adulthood,,, Why not travel? Why not experience the world?"
If you had taken just a moment from your narcissistic navel-gazing, you might have said something like, "Maybe I can get some of my arty friends together and we can do something to raise some money for the Red Cross, to help the survivors in Tuscaloosa, and Joplin, and Oklahoma."
I showed another of your posts to an actress friend who has a very successful career and she read it and said, "Don't worry. The business will teach her." And it will. If you are open to the lessons.
You are in for a huge shock. Not only does the world not care that you're here, neither does the theater. And until you learn that you live, not in a theater community but in a global one; until you find it in yourself to take part in things which are bigger than you are, you will be no more than a diletante on stage, and an empty soul off stage.
Since you go on at length about being a theater artist, I might suggest an in-depth study of Sondheim's MERRILY WE ROLL ALONG (although the story structure may be somewhat difficult for you to follow). You will find characters in this to identify with.
Finally, from someone I'm sure you consider a cynic (remembering that a cynic is somebody who sees the world as it is, and not as it's supposed to be...) Amateurs talk about "art." Professionals talk about money.
Oh Mark, being that bitter must be so exhausting. Katharine's 21...seems like you could use some of her zeal and enthusiasm.
10 points Kat. 0 points cynics. K, don't lose this zeal about you. Duh, the world doesn't owe anybody a damn thing, but misery loves company. Don't fall prey to miserable mother effers.
I admit to reading your post before reading the article and, once I read the article, I couldn't really understand what you seemed so riled up over.
I'm not going to play the "I'm older than you" card, because I'm not much older than you (I'm 29, in case anyone cares)...but I will say that I agree with a lot of the article, and that I would put a little money on your thoughts changing a few years post-graduation.
You talk about college with so much disdain, and that saddens me both as someone who would LOVE to go back for more education and as someone who agrees that, if your professors are so bored, they ought to go ahead and retire. But is it at all possible that you might have been so ready to go out and experience life and find yourself and follow your passions that you may have just interpreted their behavior as being that way? I was SO ready to leave college that I feel NOW as though I missed out on so many opportunities in those last few (and, in my opinion, highly developmental) semesters to soak up the knowledge of my professors.
I do encourage finding yourself. I encourage passion...but not at the expense of growing up and acknowledging reality as well. The trick is to not put on blinders for your journey. I don't personally think that our own individual fulfillment can come as a result of selfishness and servicing our own needs. Putting aside self and being open to options and other "callings" can bring even greater fulfillment and result in us being more well-rounded and -- dare I say it? -- happier people.
I wish you very much happiness and success in your life journey and in reaching your goals!
yes. yes yes. brooks' column reminded me of a comment I overheard a while ago. "moby dick should only be read by people who want to whale. or melville should have had a good editor."
no. unwieldy passion. unwieldy unsure passion. that is living.
read jonathan franzen's column in last sunday's times. it is the brooks antidote.
You know when you read something and you have an impulse to respond (strongly) so you just do it?
That's kind of what happened here. I agree with a lot of what David Brooks wrote, but a lot of it seemed contradictory and some of it rang false. My first choice would have been to comment on the actual article online, but they closed comments a couple of days ago so I just decided to post my response here. I read many of the comments on the article, but 95% of them were from people in David Brooks' generation; I felt compelled to respond since I'm the demographic that is the subject of his article and I felt I had something to say.
I'm not riled up or angry; I just had a response and I wrote it. It's the world wide web, I have a blog, and I published those thoughts. After four years writing here, I fully knew I'd get some conversation going. Fortunately, I love it when that happens. I'm glad I wrote something (which may be a bit off-base and overly passionate) that sparked discussion. I like to talk. So, let's.
A blog is a tricky thing. I go out and experience any number of things, select a couple of memories, write about them from an "I" perspective and talk about how they impacted me. It's all filtered through me; it's easy to come across as a narcissist. Everyone's a leading lady in their own journal, right? I, however, publish that selective journal and allow the world to view/critique it. I like shared experiences and I love discussion and (I can't help myself) I love controversy. Drama. Intellect. Whatever.
I don't want to just do everything for myself--that's not what I'm arguing. I am fully aware (as I state in my post) that I feel entitled and self-absorbed. I'm 21. I get it. Were you guys totally selfless, worldly people at 21? If so, go you.
I LOVED some of my college classes. I did, however, have a couple of professors who blatantly couldn't have cared less about our progress/teaching the course. THAT was frustrating. I literally had a class where my professor spent half an hour having the students write "Monday is..." "Green makes me feel..." every day. And then we would compare the plots of Home Alone and Hamlet. It was just silly. I do think I was ready to graduate, but in several of my classes (Directing and Collaboration, especially) there was nowhere else I would have rather been than sitting in that classroom. I learned infinite amounts and I will always be grateful for those classes.
I'm not interested in putting on blinders and only living selfishly. I'm just learning there's nothing wrong in taking ownership of your life and exploring--and that this is the age for it. There was a long period of time (as I think there is for most kids) where I thought I needed to live out my parents' lives/what they wish they'd done/what they specifically wanted for me. Now is the time where I'm realizing that while they are incredibly wise and obviously provide models to follow, I don't need to be them. Realizing this independence and ownership doesn't mean I don't have an interest in and appreciation for the world around me and making it a better place; in fact, that's something I'm really passionate about and that becomes most obvious when I teach.
As for you, Mark, how do you know how I coped with the loss of my friend? Do you honestly think that my whole reaction to that devastation was summed up in three sentences written as a tangent to a post on my blog? My comment about Ashley was a fraction of what I learned/how I handled that experience. I typically don't discuss matters that personal in depth on my blog; so I didn't here. In relationship to this article and age (which is what both the article and my response pertain to) it taught me the transience and brevity of life. That's all. It doesn't seem especially wise or mature to preach on how to handle a situation you know essentially nothing about.
I am certain your friend is right. I am sure the business will teach me. If you re-read the beginning of my post, the third sentence reads "I have waited two decades to throw myself into the maelstrom of adulthood to promptly and repeatedly kick my entitled behind." I'm prepared for my lessons; I anticipate and welcome the shock.
I'm not certain if you have a personal vendetta or if the world just didn't treat you the way you would have liked, or why you think you know so fully who I am or what I believe, but I will say this...bitterness isn't becoming, and it's certainly not what I aspire to. I do, however, appreciate the conversation. To the other responders, thank you for your comments. I clearly have a lot to learn:)
Social experiment proposition: can we old-school time capsule this post (and by that I of course mean stick it in a shoebox, preferably, and throw it up on your closet shelf) and pop this bad boy open 10 years down the road? I'm really really interested to see what you have to say ten years later, looking back on what your world looked like fresh out of college...
Because reading the article and reading the subsequent comments, it seems as though there is a undeniable positive correlation between age and support of Mr. Brooks' ideas...
Who knows.
While I am part of the generation (and the generation that caused the problem according to him) that tends to agree with the author, I also admire your honesty, zeal, and enthusiasm. The world is full of those who will attempt to cut you down to size. Also know that there are many who are cheering you on hoping you continue to learn and grow as you discern what constitutes a successful and fulfilling life, while respecting that differs from person to person. As to wishing we could go back, I'm thinking the author means we would like to go back with the knowledge we have acquired through life's journey. Funny how that just isn't the way it works.
My response was also sudden, and strong. But only because I felt you missed the entire point of the article. My response was not an indicment of you as a person. I need that understood. Because that is not who I am. I'm not a "pull the rug out" kind of gal. What he is imparting is as valuable and as crucial for you to consider and understand as Franzen's piece... It is. Because Brooks can't go back. But he can offer you this wisdom, along with his certain disdain for the system that put you guys out there. I stand by my initial response. It's not a cynical call out or a cut down. It's a passionate truth.
Aside from that... My one and only personal opinion, from your earlier words: Entitlement is always ugly, at any age. Don't defend that one. Just let it go.
Liza Lee said eleven years ago, "I've had girls come back and tell me many things. One thing I have never heard any say was that you did not adequately prepare us for college." You had a skewed childhood, but not your fault. Hockaday tore you a new asshole on a daily basis which eminently prepared/s you for what's ahead. It's your short life experience ALREADY that cynics do not understand. And btw, any good therapist will corroborate: Whatever comes from our lips is autobiographical. If accused of narcissism, then the author is likely him/herself narcissistic and here, Narcissism Disillusioned. ...College was not particularly challenging but regular adult life is more like the Darwinian Hockaday Experience. Draw from that. Forbes Magazine caption, 1982: Work Hard, Run Scared, and Never Gloat Over Anything. ...You're only as good as your last performance. Focus, keep striving, continue achieving. You have it in you to do great things. Best
Well, Katharine...You always did know how to get a discussion going!
Being from your age group, I can certainly see where you are coming from and where you felt Mr. Brooks was jaded and incorrect. However, I agree with a previous comment that perhaps you read it with too hard a line. I actually read the first half as more of a jab at his generation. He spoke of our generation's intensely supervised upbringing and the national debt we will inherit. I am neither agreeing nor disagreeing with those statements, just saying that possibly a good part of the article was just what Mr. Brooks stated in the title: "It’s Not About You." After reading his article, I can’t help but feel that this man must be filled with a great deal of regret.
Mr. Brooks then goes on to say some of the most disenchanting things about the world we are so eager (or were before we read his article…) to enter. While I disagree with a great deal of what he says, I begrudgingly agree with the basic concept that one simply must make a living. But you know that I believe in pursuing one's own bliss. I just don't believe the two are mutually exclusive unless you let them be. I believe that may be where your biggest fan, Mark O., got it wrong.
And, I am sorry but I must say this… decorum, people! Let's at least be tactful.
Let’s say your bliss is traveling. Why would having a day job to support that life be any less enchanting? You are still doing what you love. You are just being responsible and paying bills while doing it. If you happen to be fortunate enough to find your bliss and it pays the bills…even better! As for me, I am a college student and (by the good grace of my hardworking parents) currently without any bills. So what do I know? Admittedly, not much! I am still learning and happy to be doing so. And you know what? I love college! You don’t always have to either like or dislike everything about a situation. And, to each his own.
Katharine, I really believe that you will get what is coming to you. That is not said with any sort of threatening tone, but with the greatest admiration. You command attention and excellence and expect others to do the same. Not everyone sees the world the way you do. But it is a pleasure to borrow your point of view and see everything so clearly and passionately. Thank you, as always, for sharing your thoughts.
Katherine-
You are quite impressive.
Living at risk and with passion is what life is all about!
A FAN
Geez, Mark. What a bully.
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