I envy fuck-ups

Miscellaneous and Personal Stuff I Must Share
1

I envy fuck-ups in almost every way.

My life is far from perfect and I’ve tried my share of drugs and fucking around but it’s amazingly sterile. I have a perfect family unit. So perfect that i’d never despise it enough to leave it.

I know of first hand, and have read about lives that I’d kill to have just for the short term experience of it. I just can’t swallow the loss of what I’ve already built, but at the same time I feel a genuine loss of oppertunity of situations that can only be experienced first-handed.

Who here ever gets the urge to let everything go and see where it leads or to run down the first true instinct that grabs them, OR to just join the peace corps and show your kids what they’d never learn in any school?

2

To follow up…
I feel like I’m a house stacked up against so many other houses, like dominos waiting to fall. Why can’t my kids be the ones who say, “I was raised out in the middle of nowhere by my crazy parents who thought it benificial to help erect a church or home in the middle of nowhere instead of playing PS2 all day, and I thank them.”

I just don’t see it.

3

Are you calling people who joing the Peace Corp fuck-ups? :eek:

[Devil’s Advocate] If you are afraid of pursuing a life you would “kill for”, some might say you might be eligible for the ranks of the"fuck-ups." [/Devil’s Advocate]

I think I know what you mean, but am withholding until you define “fuck-up.”

4

What kind of life would you kill to have? What types of situations do you want to experience.

I don’t really get what you’re getting at here.

5

No. People who join the peace corps rank among the highest in my book of respect. I just think that in general, they’d be categorized as “fuck ups” because they are so selfless. Selfless leaves you open as defensless.

Silverfire, I’d kill to have the life in which I define the parameters in which it is run. Obviously I can have that life but with a slew of consequences, half of which I set down.

6

I’d have to give up all that has been engrained in me for a greater purpose. I’d have to kiss my family goodbye. I’d have to actuall believe in what I was about to do. I’d have to gamble my kids lives on it. I’d have to think that there’s someone else on this earth that I’d be able to help, advance their cause. In return I’d get total freedom. Seems too good to be true.

7

Envy me.

Turn freaking green with envy. I deserve it.

I dropped out of college, having not achieved a degree (in English, natch) by the age of 22. I wandered to Canada, smoked a lot of pot, wandered back, washed dishes on an island for the summer, smoked a lot of pot, wandered southwards, smoked a lot of pot, did a lot of acid, found myself at a Renaissance festival. I wandered the country for five years, smoked a lot of pot, hung out with hippies and weirdos and ex-cons and jousters and jugglers and fire-eaters and tight-rope-walkers and puppetteers and kings. I wound up in England for a winter, selling jewelry off a cart; I wound up in Tucson for a winter selling glassware in a mall; another winter, Tucson again, living in a shed and learning to make pottery. I smoked a lot of pot. I did a lot of acid. I came to terms with my sexuality, a bit late, and had quite a bit of sex, including one memorable event next to the jousting lists, under shooting stars. I made hundreds of people laugh, sometimes simultaneously. I set records, I created legends, I smoked a lot of pot, and I had fun.

That was more than a decade ago. I spun off the faire circuit, landed in Tucson, smoked a lot of pot, played with my computer, got a job playing with computers, smoked a lot of pot, got a better job playing with computers. Then, I quit smoking pot; by this time, it wasn’t fun anymore. And it was pretty much tearing me apart. Recovery, work, better jobs, and I almost got to where I could be said to have a career… when the bottom dropped out of the computer job market, and a degreeless savant like myself was as common (and as well-paid) as dirt.

Somewhere in there, I found the man I love, and he loves me back, and we have a good life together. I have a job, and it pays the bills, and we keep the tides at bay and watch movies and take care of our dogs and help out my Mom, and help out his family, and play lots of games. I’m seven years sober, and still damned weird, but able to function in society. Mostly.

And I don’t regret a thing. I blazed trails, saw trails, did strange and absurd and wonderful things, and had a blast. I wouldn’t go back, not now; I grew out of it all, and none too soon. I needed it then, though. I needed the sense of community, the sense of adventure, the feeling that my life was teetering on the edge, and that I had no control whatsoever. I needed to trust the world to take care of me if I fell. I’m damned glad I did it.

These days, I can look over my life, and the man I love, and the house and the job and the dogs and the bills, and know that I’ve chosen all of this. I wasn’t forced to work for it, I didn’t ignore my options, I chose to come in from the road and make a home. It’s worth it, and I know it’s worth it, because I have something to compare it to.

And I know that, if the rug gets pulled out from under me, and I find myself in some absurd position, I can react well. I’ve been in any number of crises, dealt with danger and weirdness and trauma and death, and I did it well. I can handle myself, and I can take care of those I love.

Sure, I might have had a better career if I’d chosen to be the sane, stable type. But I don’t think my life could be better.

Sometimes, fucking up is the best thing in the world to do.

8

Exactly what I mean.

I just don’t feel a commitment to anything yet, and I’m 33 AND the rug HAS been pulled out from under me. I do know that I can function within this society (well enough) but I feel a loss telling my kids that that this is all there is.

9

Well, if it’s any consolation, your kids may end up fucking up in your stead.

That’d be nice, huh?

10

That is why most people usually do these things before they have kids.

I travelled as much as I could, took jobs in strange places just for the experience of being there. Thankfully my first husband felt much the same way and we had quite a time of it for a few years, our daughter now 25 is also exactly the same. None of us are fuck-ups we just enjoyed a different way of life for awhile. It certainly didn’t disadvantage us in any way, only enhanced our life.

If I was already married with kids, secure job, mortgage, it would certainly be a different matter

11

Great post, MrVisible. Congratulations on your seven years.

12

I think you mean “fucking OFF”… not “fucking UP.”

There’s nothing wrong with living a more minimalistic life with your children. It builds character. Contrary to popular belief, they don’t need to be spoiled rotten. They will learn a work ethic through watching you make ends meet by expending a bit more effort than you had to before.

If your children are young, it will be much easier to go out and find yourself. Once they become teenagers, they’ll already be too woven into the lifestyle and will probably try to kill you in your sleep.

13

Thanks, essvee.

Rooves, I hope I don’t sound too harsh. I really wanted to point out that sometimes, the fuckups have the most fun. Not always, but sometimes. The time I spent fucking up was intensely valuable, and is probably responsible for me being alive right now, and is certainly responsible for me being as happy as I am.

My point is, if you’re in a situation where you envy people for fucking up their lives, then you may want to do some serious evaluation of the assumptions on which your life is based. It seems to me that in the current socioeconomicpolitical situation, those of us who bought into the whole ‘grow up, be responsible, start a family, get a job in computers, and everything’s going to be all right’ mindset are looking down the barrel of a sour-cream gun at the local Taco Bell franchise. The game you played was rigged, and the rules have changed, and it’s time to sit out a hand and figure out if it’s worth it to keep playing.

No matter what you might think, there are alternatives, even with kids involved. There are other countries out there, other ways of life, other ideals to work for. It’s not impossible with kids, but it is difficult. And, I think, more worthwhile; if you show your kids different sides of life, then when they grow up, they won’t get railroaded into one without knowing their alternatives.

Take a look at the assumptions that you’re making about life, and figure out which ones you believe in anymore. Throw out the ones that don’t make sense. Look at what it is that you really want to do, and see what you can do about getting it done. Talk to your family; tell them what you’re going through. They’d probably rather love an enthusiastic wacko than a despairing normal guy. Work out how you can do the wild thing, and then go out and do it.

The world loves adventurers.

14

Thanks everyone for responding to another vague post of mine. It’s amazing how I can post something without properly thinking it out and get really coherent answers back! That’s kinda cool.

Mr Visible , I didn’t feel like you were being harsh at all. Thanks for the input.

I almost got snot on my monitor when I read the “looking down the barrel of a sour-cream gun” comment. Thanks.

I guess I have lots of thinking to do.

15

If that’s the case, then I hope it turns things around for me as well. I’ve become nothing but a fuck-up within the past year.

16

I just did.

Paul

17

It’s quite interesting that Rooves used the term ‘fuck up’ in describing what some people would regard as a free spirit. I attended a private high school that sent 98% of its graduates to college; I attended a Jesuit college which was a breeding ground for future mba’s and attorneys. If you didn’t conform, you might be labeled as a fuck up.
FWIW, I might be a “fuck up”, and there are plenty of times that I wish that I had taken the career track that most of those around me took.

18

You are 33. You have 40 years to live. And then you are dead.

What if I had said “You have 5 years to live”? A year? A month? What would you do different? (Other than blow your pension, of course).

It sounds like you feel restricted. Have you talked this over with your partner? What do you feel is most restrictive; mortgage, job, status, extended family? (These last two seem important due to your choice of phrase “fuck up”). I suspect that you have an outlook and beliefs which others close to you consider marks of a “fuck up”, and you are using their poorly chosen language. If this is the case, tell them about it. Your kids will love you unconditionally, as you will love them. “Saying goodbye to your family” sounds awfully melodramatic; I’m sure what you want to do need not require such radical action.

Talk it over, and consider your options. Working to help people need not be purely voluntary and unpaid. Similarly, a life-affirming, eye-opening adventure somewhere halfway around the world can be had in a couple of weeks rather than “going travelling for a year”. A uplifting, almost spiritual drug experience can be had without drugs ruining your life.

If you can tell a message board full of strangers, surely you can tell those close to you?

19

I have to admit to a certain amount of resentment at the term “fuck-up”, as I’m pretty sure I qualify for your definition of it (although in my book peace corps or any other volunteers are less fuck-ups and more extraordinarily motivated).

I spent most of my youth rebelling against everything and everything, and turning down every opportunity a loving middle class family and a good education could offer me. Every time I had the chance to travel the well-trodden path of comfort and security, bad boys and drugs beckoned from exciting dark alleys. As a single unemployed mother conspicuously lacking any of the trappings of conventionality (and suddenly able to see their allure), I sometimes wondered what it was about me that meant I found it so hard to acquire the things that other people around me effortlessly possessed.

Everyone goes through phases of wondering why their life didn’t turn out differently. I know why I didn’t end up with a husband, 2.4 kids, a well-paid job and a house with a white picket fence: I never made the choices that would lead to any of those things. I consider myself lucky to have made the choices I did, and end up with the things in life that make me happy: one child, a fulfilling job and a small apartment.

I don’t regret the years I spent fucking-up instead of working on a pension plan, mainly because I have come to accept that, even with hindsight, I would probably have still done everything I did. And despite what I consider to be my now very conventional lifestyle, my daughter would not consider her upbringing or home life to mirror that of her peers in any way (I did have a vague hope that by giving her very little to rebel against, she would go to work in a pinstriped suit, but she seems determined to carve her own path as Hellraiser Extraordinaire).

I think what I meant to say before I started on this epic Rooves is that we make the choices that we make by instinct. Your creation of a perfect family unit is an achievement in itself. Maybe you weren’t born to raise hell, but the fact that you recognize the limitations of your lifestyle automatically makes you more open to others’ more alternative choices, and that will be reflected in your children’s view of the world. (But you might want to think of an alternative to the word “fuck-up").

20

I’m of the opinion that you, Rooves, should do something with this feeling of yours. There are wild things you can do. You don’t have to stay within an existence you find empty. Even if you aren’t any longer in a position to join the Peace Corps for a couple of years, there are lots and lots of weird, or helpful, things families do.

Take your kids out of school and go on a sabbatical to, oh, Australia or something. See if your company will transfer you to their office in Israel for a year.

Join the Red Cross and learn how to help people who have been burned out of their homes, or flooded.

I have a friend who just did a two-week family vacation in Mexico that consisted of building–um, something for the public good, I forget what. She has two tiny children. I just saw an ad for a package vacation tour to Africa in which the people will build a school and well in Kenya, and then spend a couple of days of the time looking around. I had a librarian friend who spent a month in Zimbabwe establishing a library. My mom went on a 3-week exchange to Japan for educators.

Work for Habitat for Humanity in your town. Or the food bank. In a serious way, not just on Thanksgiving. Or join one of the myriad little non-profits that exist to do odd services for people in need–there’s everything from quilts for sick children to AIDS education in Africa. I know an elderly lady in her 90’s who crochets three leper bandages every week (that’s very fast) for lepers in India–the handmade kind is the best, it turns out.

Go live on a farm for a year. Raise goats. See how much you can live without, and how much you can do yourself. Hey, it’ll be helpful when the End of Civilization comes to be able to skin your own dinner.
If you have ‘made it’ to an established family and all that other stuff people say is what to do, then use that to do something. Hopefully something worthwhile. I don’t think it’s necessary to throw everything away to gain experience; use it for something good, for your family or the world. Or, you could go on feeling empty, but then it will be your own fault if you detest your life. You have options; find them.