I don’t endorse general statements about life. I think they’re too presumptuous and even pretentious. And yet, I would be a hypocrite to say that I haven’t thought about life in general terms, always thinking about the “big picture” and letting the small moments just pass me by. For example, all the religion and race related courses I have taken this semester have made me skeptical about the way society functions. I’ve been led to feel that because I am Korean, I will always be marginalized here in America. I’ve also had moments when I was frustrated at the religious beliefs of many people because religion itself seemed so pointless and absurd. These things have contributed to my general, pessimistic view of life as a rigid routine performed until my death, whenever that may come. Other questions, perhaps stemming from my insecurities, have plagued my mind. Who are my real friends? Do I even have friends? How can I ever hope to be successful? What is success, anyway? Am I happy? Will I ever find the right girl for me? I feel my stomach sink when my mind allows itself to explore these questions. I feel my stomach sink when my mind generalizes life. No matter how much I try to make myself the center of the universe, sometimes I find myself not even a visible spec in the realm of things. I feel lost, I feel tired, and I feel very lonely.
I am not a depressed person. I know that I don’t have any chemical imbalances that make me want to stop living. I am active, I have a social life, and I want to do well in everything. I still fight disillusionment and care about the little things – like what so and so think about me, what shoes look good with my jeans, what top-rated restaurant I’ve eaten at recently – but sometimes, I feel as if these things are mere distractions in life that provide short-term relief, only to evaporate and leave me feeling empty again. The emptiness that I feel is more like a combination of self-disgust, world-disgust, and an invisible pressure to be great; but how does one become “great” at all?
Once again, I find myself questioning everything. Can’t I just leave “greatness” to be a point in life when I’m happy with what I’ve done and other people admire me for what I’ve done? But I find myself asking: if I’m going to eventually die and those things are most likely forgotten or at best written about in a nice obituary, why even bother at trying to be “great”? What if what I deem “great” isn’t great at all by the world standard? Too many questions.
Some may have a solution for me: take up religion, Pete. Have faith in the love of Jesus Christ, and know that when you die, you can have eternal life through salvation. Think about it, Pete. All this questioning you’re doing now? You don’t have to worry at all. They’re insignificant. You’ll be up there, with all the angels, with God, with Jesus, and everyone that you love and love you. Faith, faith, faith. It’s the key to happiness and you’ll never regret turning to God.
No.
I saw my old high school girlfriend today and got to hang out with her for a bit last night. Being single, and more than a year removed from our relationship, it was a strange feeling to be around her at times. I often felt the same frustration I had when I developed a crush for her my junior year. I would feel so joyful and excited when she talked to me and looked at me, and very dejected and jealous when she took her lively personality and projected it on someone else. Seeing her tonight, I was sad that we were once together and cared so much for each other, and now we were just friends who hung out a bit on holidays. Those exclusive moments of pigging out in front of the television, walking hand in hand through the mall, looking up tasty eating spots on the internet – all seemed like a lifetime ago, hazily radiating a glow of nostalgia in my mind. I tried my best to be a friend, to show that I’ve moved on, to tell myself that I have bigger concerns than to dwell over a Chinese girl with a quirky voice. She drove me home, and I saw her drive off, almost too fast, back to where she was comfortable, a world I once used to dominate and now find myself barely at the outskirts. I came home and thought to myself how much I missed her and how much I wanted her back, only if she let me.
But to think like that and to drown my mind in such emotional thoughts is to generalize life. Oddly enough, she was the one who taught me a lesson today. As we browsed through personal websites, we looked at mine, and she remarked how she liked my pages of old, when I didn’t deal with such issues as my ethnic identity or religious conflicts. My pages of old were a reflection of my life of old, of days when I was sure about things and asked less questions. I talked about spitting my gum out and hitting it with my hand to pretend I was playing baseball, I talked about walking up the stairs to my classroom and how tiring it was, I talked about how I enjoyed the books I read in a particular class, I talked about my grandma pulling a piece of lego out from the toilet after I had dropped it while taking a dump and playing at the same time. People talk about how it is necessary to critically self-examine, to explore the big questions, and to engage in self-reflection. They’re still right. But I see now that this understanding of life doesn’t begin with a general statement and a bunch of terms that give it a sophisticated ring. It begins with a mundane awareness – like me noticing that my grandma has put seven plants, including a big tree, in my room and wondering if they make the air any better; or me eating my mom’s food at home and trying to figure out the nutritional value of her self-proclaimed healthy dishes. And then the awareness grows into deeper things – like me trying to figure out what kind of behavior would benefit my relationship with my sister and if I should even try to repair anything between us; or how I can make a difference in my family’s business and trying to calculate my personal success with my family success. From there, I can hope that life is not what I learn in some Asian American studies class or read in a philosophy book, but a collection of thoughts on my own experiences and my own outlook.
Will I worry of what I will become in future years? Will I grow frustrated when a girl I’m interested in rejects me because of her religion? Will I feel as if there are racial issues to be addressed? Yes, yes, and yes. The questions will never disappear, and I will never be certain about everything in life. So I tell myself that there is a way to achieve a level of certainty – and that is to write. Write about your life, and don’t forget the details, I’ll tell myself. Don’t forget to write about the oysters you enjoyed a few days ago or how your reading of Vietnam has you respecting Ho Chi Minh. And remember, try not to generalize life.
