This is just going to be a depressing stream of consciousness filled with basic language and cliché thoughts, so feel free to navigate elsewhere if that’s not your thing.
The last month has been a whirlwind of activities, diarrhea, and frantic writing with no resulting product. I’ve written up a scathing piece on Buenos Aires awaiting a final element from a friend. I’ve written up a hodgepodge of notes on moral constructs, but every time I sit down, I discover holes in my arguments. I realize that I must give my dingleberries some nutrients, but in truth, this trip has been overwhelmingly underwhelming, and that’s hard to tell everyone.
It’s easy to tell people that I’m wasting my life when I’m at home because “it’s normal,” but suddenly when I’m abroad, I’m supposed to be on some mystical journey, frolicking with flamingos and impregnating dozens of women in a lusty haze, which will somehow culminate in me finding the purpose of my life. It’s just not like that, and I feel like this whole trip is a huge waste of time. Sure, there are some easily identifiable benefits to this trip as well as a few benefits I have yet to recognize, but that doesn’t change the fact that I find no meaning in any particular moment without some absolutely wild stimulus, which I tend to avoid. I feel blind to the beauty before me on a daily basis, and I constantly wish I was somewhere else even though I know that if I was there, I’d wish I was somewhere else again.
I know that if I was back home right now, I’d still feel just as bored, frustrated, confused, underwhelmed, and unmotivated as I do here. There’s not a place on Earth I could go right now to get away from my apathy. Some of my friends look down on me for still struggling with existential issues. I agree with them though. Struggling with finding meaning in an inherently meaningless universe is just whiney bullshit. But fuck, life is so god damn boring, and it doesn’t help that the only things I’ve ever enjoyed are unsustainable & the things I find important bore me to tears.
At this point, I’ve inarguably been a net negative on humanity’s progress, and I just don’t know where to go from here. I could continue down the path of marketing, make a decent salary, and be a tiny cog in the destruction of humanity. I could try to balance out my devil’s work with volunteering to reverse Citizens United to get money out of politics, but is that really what I want to do with my free time? I could drop everything and…? But none of this appeals to me.
But I guess this is part of growing up for the vast majority of people, right? You give up on having a great life, settle down with someone who’s good enough, have kids, work 9-5, drink beer, watch TV, and then live vicariously through your children who grow up to do the same.
By the very nature of apathy, it is resistant to change since one is apathetic towards improving one’s situation. I still can’t figure this one out.
Anyways. I’m in Sucre, Bolivia right meow. It’s a charming city surrounded by golden hills. I’ve never seen a skyline like this except in the movies. I’ll soon forget what it looks like, and the words themselves “It’s a charming city surrounded by golden hills,” will have to suffice as my memory of this city.
Also, I miss Harris Wittels.