I was writing a couple of days back about urban luxuries, or what might pass for, at least. And now, it seems I've circled back around to the topic, though perhaps from a different angle.
You see, I was in a terrible rush. I was so convinced I'd missed it. I'd arrived at two on the dot and felt certain they wouldn't let me in anymore. But I got lucky. These kinds of events are never too inflexible, perhaps as they primarily revolve around artistic types. I'd gone for a reading of a new play by a local writer. It was a spur of the moment thing, as I didn't know the writer, only one of the actors performing. As I shimmied into the theater hall, I was surprised by how many empty seats there were, and with it already past two. The play/reading would start any minute. And yet, I had no trouble sneaking up to the front row and plopping myself down. Still, I kept turning around. How come there were so few people?
Then I realized, well, it's 2 o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. Most people are at work, probably. Indeed, a quick survey of the faces around me revealed the obvious - the audience was divided among old, retired people, theater students in small gangs, and of course, people from the art scene, like other playwrights and actors. The occasional fringe stray, like myself, and perhaps one or two people who looked like they belonged to the "should be working" group. But that was pretty much all of us.
After the play ended, I left contemplating the freedoms and luxuries in my life I take so easily for granted. The fact that I'm able to be anywhere in the middle of a Wednesday, for instance. Since I've never held a traditional job, the last time I was forced to be somewhere on the clock was probably before I left school, more than ten years ago. And I have to say, this freedom and flexibility is terribly addictive. This room to consider, even, being anywhere, picking up and leaving. Shorter or longer distances. Leave town for a couple of days on a Thursday with no explanation given except to myself and my own prior, self-chosen engagements. To sit inside a dusty theater at lunchtime in the middle of the week to watch some random art, and let yourself be open. To go, to stay. To be able to say yes to things irrespective of other people's demands.
That's pretty rad. And I'm pretty damn lucky.
I look at my friends, and see them become formed by this terrible rigidity as they're swallowed deeper and deeper into the traditional workspace. And I get it, because obviously, not all of us have this luxury that I do. But I also see them embracing it to an extent, falling into materialism, gathering to themselves shit they don't really need, little expensive 'toys' to justify the hours they spent loathing their boss or their clients. Maybe it's because I've never been inside that system, but it seems like a vicious cycle to me. A bit.
The more you buy to make up for a job you loathe, the more you have to work.
I used to make things up. Commiserate when I met new people who, not understanding the way I lived too well (as it's not that common here), kept asking about the weekend. It's assumed you'll share that TGIF vibe that seems endemic among 9-to-5ers.
Except I don't want to go through this one short life I've got separating my week into 2 unfairly short days of freedom and 5 days of ankle-bound hell.
So now I don't pretend anymore. I just say well, you know, I didn't even realize today was Sunday until you pointed it out because unlike you, I'm actually looking forward to tomorrow.
Again, I'm aware this might come across as conceited, as rubbing one's nose in my own terrible piece of luck. And I do think of myself as terribly lucky in this regard. But also, as I've pointed out before, not just. It's a lot of work and uncertainty. It's a willingness to live on the fringe and make weird choices and hone your instinct and be constantly figuring out what it is to live a life true to who you really are. A lot of things that scare the majority and send them running for the safety of 9-to-5 sterility.
A few years ago, I remember ranting here about a friend complaining she wished her mom was 'cool' like mine. And it pissed me off because, while I do think my mom is terribly fucking cool, I also know that that 'coolness' also implies a certain degree of oddity and living on the edge, so to speak. Things that my friend abhorred, preferring sameness and conformity.
Except in life, you can't just get the perks. You can't get the cool mom only when it suits you. And you can't get the freedom my own life entails without also the uncertainty, oddball choices and at times risky plays.
In the end, all that we live is in some form or another a trade-off. You just gotta figure out what you're willing to keep and what you're willing to lose.
