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.
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.
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