As I read "Girlfriend in A Comma" I, yet again, felt the panic of being almost 25 and without a career. Career can mean so many things and apparently it means something quite specific to me because just a few weeks ago I was trying to convince myself that nannying is indeed a career, yet here I am being skeptical and worried again.
This book frightened me, not because it was semi-apocalyptic, but because it told a story about several friends who grow old, but not up, and contribute virtually nothing of significance to the world. I don't want to be 35 and clueless as to what I want to do with my life. I don't want to live a little life. I'm being narcissistic, I know, and I'm missing the point (or one of many) of the book. This life, my life, is not about me, but rather about questioning and aiding in a greater cause, or so says Coupland. This "greater cause" used to be of the Christian Evangelical kind, but I no longer wish to convert people.
Knowing that my memory blankets the next twenty generations is not what I want. I just want to create and create and create and never stop. I don't necessarily want people to see what I'm creating either. Narcissism, again. Do I need to show my art to people in order for it to be significant, for it to mean something? I'd like to think not.
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