Maybe you’ve read this article (http://www.huffingtonpost.com/wait-but-why/generation-y-unhappy_b_3930620.html). Maybe you haven’t. If you identify with the latter statement, go read it and then come back here.
I read this article and thought to myself; I’m special, everyone wants to hear my thoughts on this issue. And now I’m on a 6 hour flight, caffeinated and creative. Plus, I’m about the yuppiest of all yuppies so I feel qualified to address the issues raised (my yuppiness can be verified by the lady sitting next to me who’s judging me for sipping on a seven dollar ounce of bourbon and who, incidentally, also seems to be experiencing a hot flash).
I agree with a few of the basic tenants the author lays out, but I also disagree with some of them (rockin’ thesis statement, I know).
I agree...
Hard work is important. Free is rarely valuable. Working hard for something, in and of itself, is rewarding. Starting and completing a project is good for you. Do it. Assuming that the world will reward you for simply being you is a lovely thought (and in some ways it will), but it is also naive.
Okay, so that’s really the only premise I can get behind in this article.
I disagree...
All of us GYPSY’s are unhappy because we’re too lazy and arrogant to get a real job (this is a completely unfair and reductive summary of the author’s argument, but this is my blog and I’m special and I do what I want). Go ahead and take a deep breath because we’re getting all intellectual and presumptuous up in here. You’re about to be served with some cold hard IB psych knowledge.
Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Boom.
For those of you (yes, I’m judging you) unfamiliar with the theory I’ll give you a basic breakdown (and diagram). The hierarchy of needs essentially argues that individuals fulfill their needs in order of importance. An individual can only achieve the next level in the pyramid after the previous one has been met.
I read this article and thought to myself; I’m special, everyone wants to hear my thoughts on this issue. And now I’m on a 6 hour flight, caffeinated and creative. Plus, I’m about the yuppiest of all yuppies so I feel qualified to address the issues raised (my yuppiness can be verified by the lady sitting next to me who’s judging me for sipping on a seven dollar ounce of bourbon and who, incidentally, also seems to be experiencing a hot flash).
I agree with a few of the basic tenants the author lays out, but I also disagree with some of them (rockin’ thesis statement, I know).
I agree...
Hard work is important. Free is rarely valuable. Working hard for something, in and of itself, is rewarding. Starting and completing a project is good for you. Do it. Assuming that the world will reward you for simply being you is a lovely thought (and in some ways it will), but it is also naive.
Okay, so that’s really the only premise I can get behind in this article.
I disagree...
All of us GYPSY’s are unhappy because we’re too lazy and arrogant to get a real job (this is a completely unfair and reductive summary of the author’s argument, but this is my blog and I’m special and I do what I want). Go ahead and take a deep breath because we’re getting all intellectual and presumptuous up in here. You’re about to be served with some cold hard IB psych knowledge.
Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. Boom.
For those of you (yes, I’m judging you) unfamiliar with the theory I’ll give you a basic breakdown (and diagram). The hierarchy of needs essentially argues that individuals fulfill their needs in order of importance. An individual can only achieve the next level in the pyramid after the previous one has been met.
While I have some issues with Maslow’s hierarchy (art is not an elitist or self-actualized practice - look at the gospel songs of American slaves for proof). But, in this case, it offers a helpful perspective.
Now, sit back and relax while I tease out this argument and subsequently blow your minds.
Maybe, just maybe, my parents could go to college and become engineers and scientists because their parents were ranchers and factory workers. And maybe I can become an artist because my parents were engineers and scientists. Maybe us yuppies aren’t becoming unemployed actors, singers, designers, dancers, and cellists because we’re lazy and arrogant. Maybe we’re doing it because our parents read us poetry and took us to plays because they were doctors and lawyers and accountants.
Let me clarify, I am not trying to argue that an artist is more actualized or important than a rancher. Rather I am arguing that one cannot exist without the other. Society can better appreciate art because our grandparents and great grandparents already fed us breakfast. Having a boyfriend doesn’t suddenly replace your need for food and water, and in the same way all the food in the world doesn’t replace your need for love and support.
I read another article (http://www.forbes.com/sites/louisefron/2013/09/13/why-you-cant-find-a-job-you-love/) that argues our unhappiness comes from being in the wrong job. In true yuppie fashion I am no job expert. I have had exactly one paying job in my ridiculously idyllic life. It was a good job. I made a difference, was paid above minimum wage, and only worked three days a week. I started this job in February knowing that I was moving in September. I always viewed it as a short term position. A solution to my incurable shoe addiction and those pesky bills. If I had viewed this job as my career, as my life for the foreseeable future I would have been crushed by a debilitating state of depression. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I probably would have killed myself. And this was a good job! I liked this job. But it was in no way my dream job. I am not naive enough to believe that I will ever have a job that I wake up excited for every single day. But I am also not pessimistic enough to believe that I should have a job that I am never excited about.
Take another deep breath because we’re going gospel with this conclusion. I really believe that God made me a theatre practitioner. This means that I will never be fulfilled or affective in any other field. Ever.
So, if I may be so bold as to quote the Avett Brothers, “decide what to be and go be it”.
My advice
This post presupposes that one has a choice in their career. For the majority of earth’s citizens a job is the difference between eating and starving. For me, and most of you, it is a difference between organic and generic. So, let’s all just take a moment to appreciate the fact that we are privileged enough to even worry about this.
Now, sit back and relax while I tease out this argument and subsequently blow your minds.
Maybe, just maybe, my parents could go to college and become engineers and scientists because their parents were ranchers and factory workers. And maybe I can become an artist because my parents were engineers and scientists. Maybe us yuppies aren’t becoming unemployed actors, singers, designers, dancers, and cellists because we’re lazy and arrogant. Maybe we’re doing it because our parents read us poetry and took us to plays because they were doctors and lawyers and accountants.
Let me clarify, I am not trying to argue that an artist is more actualized or important than a rancher. Rather I am arguing that one cannot exist without the other. Society can better appreciate art because our grandparents and great grandparents already fed us breakfast. Having a boyfriend doesn’t suddenly replace your need for food and water, and in the same way all the food in the world doesn’t replace your need for love and support.
I read another article (http://www.forbes.com/sites/louisefron/2013/09/13/why-you-cant-find-a-job-you-love/) that argues our unhappiness comes from being in the wrong job. In true yuppie fashion I am no job expert. I have had exactly one paying job in my ridiculously idyllic life. It was a good job. I made a difference, was paid above minimum wage, and only worked three days a week. I started this job in February knowing that I was moving in September. I always viewed it as a short term position. A solution to my incurable shoe addiction and those pesky bills. If I had viewed this job as my career, as my life for the foreseeable future I would have been crushed by a debilitating state of depression. I’m not trying to be dramatic, but I probably would have killed myself. And this was a good job! I liked this job. But it was in no way my dream job. I am not naive enough to believe that I will ever have a job that I wake up excited for every single day. But I am also not pessimistic enough to believe that I should have a job that I am never excited about.
Take another deep breath because we’re going gospel with this conclusion. I really believe that God made me a theatre practitioner. This means that I will never be fulfilled or affective in any other field. Ever.
So, if I may be so bold as to quote the Avett Brothers, “decide what to be and go be it”.
My advice
- Stay in school. Seriously. Being a student is the perfect yuppie profession. No one questions your life choices and no one expects anything else of you.
- Find the job that God made you for (there is one, I promise).
- If you hate your job, quit.
- sidenote: you’re never going to love every single day of any job. Waking up at 4am is going to suck even if you’re going to the greatest job in the world. You’re getting paid to do something, that means there is a deficit between your daily effort and your job’s intrinsic rewards.
This post presupposes that one has a choice in their career. For the majority of earth’s citizens a job is the difference between eating and starving. For me, and most of you, it is a difference between organic and generic. So, let’s all just take a moment to appreciate the fact that we are privileged enough to even worry about this.