Why Do We Want It All?

Recently, there's been a lot of debate on the Atlantic's cover story of women having it all, or rather the inability of women to have it all ( http://www.theatlantic.com/debates/women-workplace).  Reactions have ranged across the spectrum: those who approvingly nod, those who deride the backward step for feminism, those who think it's ridiculous for people to even expect to have it all.  Regardless of which view one takes, I think most people acknowledge that there's this concept of having it all.  It's just a matter of defining what "it all" means.  Some people take it to mean a great career and a great family life.  Some people will take it to mean finding happiness with what you have and acknowledging that life has a balance.  But this got me thinking: Why do we want it all?  Can we ever have it all?

I think it's a bit misguided to classify wanting it all as a problem for only the 1%.  It's easy to say that most people only care about paying their mortgage and feeding their kids, and that they don't have the illusions of having it all.  That those high-powered people complaining about not being able to spend enough time with their kids, despite having the perks of great pay with flexible hours, are just asking for too much.  Maybe to some extent it is true, that this is a problem for privileged people, who have the luxury of choice.  But I think most people want more.  From the highly-educated tenured professor who wants a power position in D.C. to the college graduate who wants to be more than a cog in the machine at a big corporation, to the single working mother who wants to do right by her children, to the children of the slums who want to escape poverty.  I don't think people ever stop wanting more.  Wanting it all.  There's always some hurdle to cross, some new challenge, something to cross off the list.  There are those who rationalize that they've done enough, that they've seen enough ... but does this rationalization mean that they have it all, or does it just mean they've accepted what they have?

Maybe this acceptance is the best we can do.  But it's what creates that nagging feeling within us that makes it seem like we are just trying to be happy because we've reached our limit.  I think when people blame wanting it all as a 1% problem, they are overlooking the power of this feeling.  They think, "The rest of us would be happy with what you elitists have, why can't you?"  But everyone wants to believe that they can achieve more than their limit.  We see the whole world now--people within our group, below our group, above our group.  Technology connects us so that we can constantly compare, whether it's through social media, international business, travel.  We see what is possible.  We don't realize that it's not possible for everyone.  We try to convince ourselves that it is, that we went to as good a university, that we're just as good looking, that we're just as capable.  It's easy to say that we shouldn't care about measuring ourselves against others, and that we should only care about what makes us happy.  But I think what makes us happy is largely tied to what we perceive is possible, and I don't know anyone who is capable of just shutting that off.  Maybe the most awesome person in the world doesn't have this problem.  But I like to believe that people like Obama and Merkel still have this nagging feeling.

I've touched on this before, but I think it has a lot to do with our need to find purpose.  To know that we matter.  To know that we have a reason for existing.  To validate our belief that we are unique, that our souls are special, that we make a difference.  We keep working, we keep expanding our circle of family and friends, we turn to religion, we pursue happiness.  We're constantly looking for something to validate us.  But ultimately, no amount of wealth or success or love can do that for us.  It may just be that we're on a self absorbed quest with no answer, and the best we can do is live with that nagging feeling.  Until someone says we are David, we are Ruth or Tommy or Kathy, we may never be able to find that peace.  That scares me a little.

India

Since I've been in Singapore, the country I have visited the most has been India.  I first went due to work, and while most of my subsequent visits have also been work related, ew, st, dk, and I did spend a considerable amount of time in Ladakh searching for a snow leopard.  Before I first went, I had no real desire to ever see India.  I had heard great things about the Taj Mahal, the swamp waters of Kerala, Goa, and of course the craziness of Mumbai.  I had heard about the transformative nature of ashrams, in the Eat, Pray, Love mold.  But for some reason, India was never one of those countries that I had on my list of countries to see.  Maybe it's because it seemed too big, too difficult to tackle.  Or maybe it's because despite all the hearsay, no one I personally knew had ever come back with a positive report.  There were tales of food poisoning, scammers, inefficiencies, hordes of people.  And after being there, I can say firsthand that all of those things are in fact true. India is a very difficult place to visit, and I still don't have a great fondness for going there.  But it is unique in that I think it really gives us a window into the large disconnect between perception and reality.  When I worked in the U.S., India was considered an emerging market with an incredible growth story: the world's largest democracy with an English speaking population that would be poised to take over all the white collar jobs.  When I'm in India, I see the majority of the population mired in poverty, with basic infrastructure requirements sorely lacking.  People want to talk about the success of Mumbai, Bangalore, Hyderabad.  They don't want to recognize that aside from the major cities, the rest of India is still a rural state.

It's nicer to think about India in that yoga, kama sutra, darjeeling tea context.  India is such a large country that it is easy to get away and find yourself.  Ladakh is a desolate region, particularly in winter, and is beautifully tranquil.  I've been to Gandhi's main ashram in Ahmedabad, and for a moment, you are able to think, this must be the true India.  But then you walk by the half-completed buildings with construction rubble just lying around.  The stench of sewage.  Roads that have no separation, so you're going against oncoming traffic.  To some extent, India reminds me of Africa.  Little to no infrastructure for basic needs, like power and clean water.  But in Africa, it's more sparsely populated, so people aren't fighting so much for everything.  In India, since everyone lives on top of each other, everyone is fighting for every inch. 

I asked my Indian coworker whether he thinks Indians are a pessimistic or optimistic people.  He said he would be inclined to believe they are pessimistic.  I was initially puzzled by this because how can a developing country, with so much opportunity for rapid growth be pessimistic?  But then you think about how nothing has changed.  Every visit to China brings something new--a new road, a new industrial park, a new shopping center.  In India, there's a paralysis in government, in having too many voices.  And people support this paralysis because they just want to be heard but do not want to act.  So there's a lot of rhetoric that insinuates change, but at the end of the day, most of the country is still in poverty.  It's hard to see this changing any time soon.

When you fight for every inch, you lose a bit of empathy.  When I worked at JPMorgan, poor treatment of analysts was justified by, "this is what I had to go through to get to where I am."  People think that if they experienced a struggle, a fight for every inch, then they earned everything they have.  And that anyone who suffered less does not deserve the same.  It's this idea of meritocracy.  That they somehow worked harder.  But there are plenty of people who work hard who just don't get the same breaks in life.  Life is not fair.  And if life is not fair, meritocracy is a myth.  In Asia, it's a constantly perpetuated myth, whether due to cultural reasons or the fact that people are fighting for every inch.  And I think it's hurting countries like India.    It's not uncommon to see Indians treat their countrymen with disdain, whether it's because they are blue collar workers, of a lower caste, or maybe because they simply think that money makes them more important.  It's hard to rise when your own people are trying to keep you down.

Despite all this, India is yoga, kama sutra, darjeeling tea.  On a clear day in the quieter town of Ahmedabad, it's easy to get lost in this.  Or while sitting on the lawn at Rambargh Palace in Jaipur.  Or when climbing a ridge in the Ladakh Himalayas.  There's a diversity and a definite cultural identity to India.  And if you have a little empathy, there's something to be found there.

Facebook

I remember when I first signed up for Facebook.  It was junior year of college, and you had to have an affiliated university email to sign up.  I remember thinking it was pretty cool, since there was a feature that connected you to everyone who was in the same class as you.  One of my first acts on Facebook was to message a girl I kind of knew in my organizational behavior class, asking her if there was any homework due the next day.

Fast forward eight years, and for some reason, I've been off of Facebook for almost two years.  Well, the reason is actually pretty simple--I entered my password incorrectly a few times, was locked out, and my Facebook account was tied to my UC Berkeley email (which I no longer had access to), meaning that there was no way for me to reset my password.  I never ended up signing up for another account, but it was probably due more to sheer laziness than anything else.

Rewind a couple years though.  From what I remember, Facebook's main purpose back then was to allow you to "stalk" people.  Since most users in your network were basically your peers, no one ever felt compelled to censor their posts, set up privacy settings, or worry about their image.  It was basically a forum for college students to show off their lives to each other, for better or for worse.  You could get a window into the life of someone you barely knew.  To some extent, it was the next step in the evolution of the Internet geek.  Before, you had to talk to girls directly.  With the advent of the Internet, you could hide behind IMing.  With the advent of Facebook, you could poke or send an innocuous friend request.  Remember that high school crush you barely talked to?  Well, you could Facebook her and see what she was up to.  Maybe these connections would ultimately lead to nothing, but there was the slight chance that the new you could attract the old crush.  It's a bit funny in hindsight.  As much as we always try to move forward in life, a part of us will always be tied to our formative years, of trying to fit in, of trying to look cool, be popular, be "successful," whatever that term may mean.  Facebook found a way to bring that desire to everyone every day, instead of forcing us to wait until our high school reunions.  

I've been debating whether to go back to Facebook.  It does seem like an easier place to meet friends--rather than being forward and going through the awkwardness of hanging out, feeling out people's likes/dislikes, you can monitor each other through Facebook, develop a bond by posting comments on each other's walls (or is it timelines now?), and develop a rapport online before meeting.  And being in a new city where you don't have the bonds of your past, that could be pretty helpful, especially since I've been told numerous times that I'm a hard man to know.  So why can't I seem to make myself take the plunge?

I'm not particularly interested in going to my high school reunions.  Thinking back to when I was a Facebook user, my network wasn't much wider than the circle of people I still talk to today.  So for me, I never fully embraced the connect with anyone mentality.  And with today's Facebook, I think you need to have that mentality to get the most out of it.  It's no longer the "stalking" vehicle it once was, as everyone has gotten access to Facebook, from employers to relatives.  So Facebook has lost a bit of its edge, as people have gotten much more careful about what they post and who they allow access to.  It has evolved to become a bit one-sided in a way.  People only put their best selves on Facebook--I'm not sure there is even a "dislike" feature (I randomly have access to Facebook when ew goes on).  The Atlantic put out an article last month asking if Facebook was making us lonely, because people see how "awesome" everyone's life is, and inevitably, if you're surfing Facebook at home, you're not out doing everything everyone else is.

Some people feed off of this.  It makes them feel connected to what's going on.  But it's why I have problems living in big cities like New York or Tokyo, even Singapore to some extent.  It does make me feel lonely.  I don't want to relive high school in the sense that I have to figure out where the happening parties are every weekend.  I don't want that pressure to always be doing something, to always be a part of a happening group/movement/trend.  I was recently in San Francisco, and even there, the vibe is becoming increasingly judgmental in this way.  If you're not part of the tech, hipster, artisanal products crowd, you're supposedly missing out on life.  

Something that has stuck with me is David Choe's comment that he thought Facebook was a completely ridiculous idea (despite now having hundreds of millions from it for providing artwork).  But when we think about how we interact with people, it doesn't seem so ludicrous.  People want to fit in.  The only thing that changes is the popular crowd.  In high school, it's usually the athletes.  Depending on your where you live, it's the entrepreneurs or politicians or bankers or artists.  And Facebook gives us that means to constantly check where we are relative to that crowd.

In writing this, I'm reminded of westerns like Lonesome Dove and All the Pretty Horses.  Characters like Call and John Grady Cole.  Loners who went against the current of the day, not caring that being a cowboy was no longer considered cool.  Maybe I gravitate toward those characters because I also yearn for that peace that comes from being alone.  Well, not alone in a literal sense, as Call had Gus and John Grady Cole had Lacey, but in the sense that a few real relationships are enough to get you through the day.  Is it necessary for us to connect with everyone?  I think about the trips I've taken to remote places, like Ladakh or Kedougou, and never once did I feel the need to check Internets, as I was able to really bond with ew, my sister, st, and dk.  Even in non-remote places like my trip to San Francisco, the intensity of being with vl, st, cl, and lb was enough such that I didn't need to find out what else was going on (and actually once lb used technology to find out what was going on, I would say the tenor of the evening changed).  I guess what I'm finally getting at is that maybe for now, I'll continue to be that cowboy, pushing against a sea of change.  And whether that gets me branded as uncool, I'm OK with that, as long as I have friends who are willing to take a ride with me every now and then.

Prometheus

Ew and I saw Prometheus last weekend, and due to a confluence of factors, it sparked a desire in me to give this blog another go, at least for this one post.  I think the reviews for Prometheus are mostly spot on--it's not a great movie but it is full of beautiful visuals and big themes.  Themes big enough where ew spent the entire weekend trying to understand the universe despite claiming that she thought the movie was just OK.  Themes big enough such that a week later, I'm still formulating my thoughts on it, especially since everything currently going on in my life seems to tie together with it.

A few weeks ago, with college graduations in process, a number of memorable commencement speeches began getting revisited online.  It's a bit of a strange feeling reading these speeches, as I'm still close enough to my college graduation such that I can grasp that feeling where the whole world seemed to be before me, but far enough removed where that world seems to be closing in on me, slowly but surely.  So it was a bit fortuitous to see David Foster Wallace's graduation speech from 2005 (which coincidentally was when I graduated college) (which is also now known as "This Is Water") since he so eloquently described the exact feelings that I have been having lately.  He describes how life is about surviving the day in, day out--the routine that all of us working professionals face, and the overbearing burden of that routine.  Growing up, there's always some milestone to work toward, whether it's getting into college, getting a job, grad school, proving yourself in your first job, etc.  But once you've been working for a while, and you get into that day in, day out routine--the 8 to 5 or 6, dinner, some TV or exercise, sleep, repeat--you begin to feel a bit worn down, and you begin to wonder whether there is any purpose to this life of ours.  Wallace brilliantly brings to light that everyone is hardwired to be self absorbed, and I'd argue that finding purpose seems to be the most self absorbed endeavor anyone can pursue.   How do we find happiness?  What does that mean?

Maybe it's a quarter life crisis.  Maybe ew and I just need to start having kids, worry about raising them, then worry about them leaving us, and that will at least take up the next 20 years or so of my life.  Maybe the problem for all of us is that we have it a bit too easy, where we become slaves to our minds, because we have it so good where we don't have to worry about things like finding meals or shelter.  Wallace encourages us to try to think differently, to be more empathetic to people and less self absorbed.  Only then will we find that we can loosen the grip that our minds have on us.  Buddhists meditate to clear their minds, hoping that one day they can achieve a state of zen, of fulfillment.  All of these things seem way too difficult.

Which brings us back to Prometheus, which packages this quintessential exploration for purpose into a science fiction movie.  Despite having an ultimate faith in something unexplainable (God), Noomi Rapace's character goes on an expedition searching for her engineer, tangible proof of a creator.  Something to explain humanity.  And it is this paradox that brings me back to This Is Water--that we all worship something.  Whether it is God, some space engineer, some moral code, we all have some "irrational" belief system.  And therein lies the theme that has been staying with me since I saw Prometheus: maybe we're actually David (the android) and we just don't want to admit it to ourselves.

The other night ew left for Paris on business, and as usual, I had a hard time falling asleep without her.  So I was up late and happened to drift off into cyberworld.  I stumbled upon new clips from the upcoming Amazing Spider Man, and began thinking how much I actually like Andrew Garfield.  This led to a search of other movies he's been in, which ultimately led me back to Never Let Me Go.  And I began recalling the haunting novel, of the hope and despair of Kathy and Tommy and Ruth.  The push for something more, something meaningful.  The realization of what David knew all along in Prometheus.  The acceptance.  And I couldn't help but think that maybe this is our life.  This is all it is.  There's a finality to that, but also a peace.  And maybe all we can do is cling to the world, and hope that it never lets us go.