Loss of Mojo, Fading Dreams

I feel enervated most of the time now. I'm convinced that my desk job is out to fatten me up for the kill; I'm the fattest I've ever been. I sit at least 10 hours a day. My mind is equally sluggish these days. I haven't been writing at all for the last several months and I've barely been reading, instead finding it easier to watch Two and a Half Men and endless Family Guy reruns nightly. My one concession to my intellectual side is watching Jeopardy regularly. It's pretty obvious to me that I'm in a funk.The man's got me down; I ain't got my mojo no more. If I ever had it to begin with... In my teen's I was somewhat depressed (par for the course) but as a young man I have generally been, if not happy, than hopeful about my possibilities. This is no longer the case, and I fear that I prematurely aging, hanging on the precipice of 30 and all my creative powers and mental acuity rapidly waning. Partially, I blame my current preoccupation with financial obligations for my declining condition. Money is an prevailing drain on my attention and I am devoting more time to it than ever before. It is obvious to me that the capitalist system is not freedom promoting as it is made out to be, what with the obvious connection between poverty and bondage.

I have a need to be more than a schmo that is being frustrated daily.The irony is, of course, that frustration is the sine qua non of schmo-hood, and thus I exacerbate my condition by wanting it to be other than it is as opposed to the worker who accepts his lot and goes about his duties with an air of fulfillment. Its almost quixotic to want more. I should be satisfied, I tell myself, with what I have- a beautiful child, the love of a woman- what more could a man want? I eat, have a roof, all the basics covered, but it is not enough. I have heard it said (just where escapes me) that desire exists only to further itself. Once sated, we do not stay so for long: it is one of the few universally recognized characteristics of human nature. What most concerns me about my current state is that my dissatisfaction fulfills no purpose. It is an impotent wanting, not an impetus to act; a complacence masquerading as mild depression and objectless yearning, rounded off with daydreams of a more vivid existence. It is resentment of the path my life has taken, and my lack of control over it, without even having a realizable alternative in mind.

Where did all my verve go? Did I ever really have it? I've always felt myself to be in process, percolating in a chrysalis, about to spring on the world and really fuck some shit up, rattle some cages, announce myself and finally arrive in all of my glory. This view of myself now seems hopelessly naive, and more than a bit grandiose. When we lose the dreams of our childhoods, who are we? Where are we going? The maturation process can be linked to a steady reining in of our outlandish childish aspirations. I want to be a world-changing artist-philosopher-revolutionary-musician. I want to write a book that is read by more than 3 people, maybe be a philosophy professor. Ok, fine, I'll settle for getting a job that can keep me out of debt and not make me entirely miserable. So it goes, and with each compromise something dies.

Innocence and Ignorance

When I look in to my son's eyes I see an unsullied, pure intelligence utterly unaware of itself. He is innocent, but that doesn't mean that he is always an angel. He has made the connection between crying and things happening (comforting, feeding etc.) and he is starting to wield that power capriciously, at times crying at the slightest provocation, or with no perceptible provocation at all. Now, my questions are threefold: 1. If he is aware of having power over his environment does that mean that he is necessarily aware of himself as the agent wielding that power? 2. What is the moral status of the state of innocence? 3. When is innocence lost, where do we draw that line, and what is the crucial distinction between innocence and ignorance?
In his inchoate mind, it must seem magical how things come and go. We, his parents, must appear to be omnipotent agents pulling the strings that make it all happen. Freud said that the widespread belief in an all-powerful personal deity can be traced to this ubiquitous experience as an infant. As far as he is concerned, religious faith is explained away as merely a distorted recollection of that early impression of omnipotence. But, I digress. As far as I can tell, the essence of innocence is to be beyond blame, i.e. beyond reproach or accountability for one's actions. Forgive them father, for they know not what they do. And, indeed, I have no doubt that he does not cry to deliberately exercise his power over us. He does not yet have the requisite concepts to perform a power trip. However exasperating his touchiness may be for us, because we know that he doesn't yet have the capacity to be truly pulling one over on us we practice patience and try not to hold it against him when he cries seemingly just for the hell of it. I believe that what is going on can be explained much more simply as a conditioned response. He is operating on the same level as a rat pushing a bar to get a pellet. Of course, that is a rather unsavory comparison but I believe it gets at an essential point, namely, that innocence has a rather undeserved aura of goodness associated with it, when in fact it is nothing particularly admirable, in and of itself. Just as the rat will continue to push the bar when it is not particularly hungry, but just peckish or simply feels like gorging itself, so my son will cry at will in a sort of free floating see-what-happens directive. Perhaps boredom is the stimulus. This is a recent development, which to my mind lends more credence to the notion that it is a learned behavior that can be differentiated from the instinctual cries that have physiological needs behind them. His hunger cry is very clear (MmN- Gah!) and his cry of pain for gas or whatever else ails him is quite different from the newer petulant cry he now deploys every once in a while, arbitrarily. In any case, in light of these reflections, I can say answer my first question with a definitive No. He has no idea that it is even him doing the crying-it is not something he does deliberately, rather it is something happening to him, or through him, as it were. He hasn't yet developed a concept of himself as an agent yet. One need only observe his random arm movements to understand that he is not yet aware enough of himself to be master of himself.

As to the moral status of innocence, earlier I alluded to the widespread positive connotations of the state of innocence as being unwarranted. I believe that this impression of it stems from people's attitudes about young things and the instinctual protectiveness that they elicit. When we look at any young and defenseless thing, particularly our own offspring, we are never seeing them with an unbiased eye; instead of seeing their unsteady movements and inability to fend for themselves as a debilitating and pathetic immaturity, it appears cute to us and we are overcome with good will towards this little creature. Of course, this sense that I am using is a limited notion of innocence as being chiefly the province of the young and unformed. When we consider the legal definition of innocence or how the term applies to an animal who kills by instinct, the salient meaning that the divergent senses share is put in to relief. This is, first off, the absence of guilt and, secondarily, the implicit lack of relevant knowledge that would serve as the basis for being culpable. Here, it is instructive to consider how the christian doctrine of original sin contrasts with the intuitive understanding of innocence I have just outlined. The doctrine, what I know of it anyway (I am not a biblical scholar), essentially says that we are all born guilty because Adam ate the fruit of the tree of knowledge and got us kicked out of the garden (which I take to symbolize the natural order). This is all fine as it goes, but it does seem to fail to take in to account a baby's complete lack of knowledge and awareness of itself. In fact, they lose a lot potential converts at precisely that sticking point: a baby raised outside the christian fold is condemned to hell, without ever having done anything wrong. When the doctrine of original sin comes up against the intuitive understanding of innocence it often proves to be the worse for wear. To return to the question at hand, what does all this tell us about the moral valence of innocence? Given that the essence of innocence is inculpability and its attendant deficiency of knowledge, I would say that innocence is prior to moral accountability and as such constitutes a gray area of sorts (limbo jibes with this as a mitigating factor on the harshness of the original sin doctrine). The purity associated with innocence should not be confused with the purity of goodness that comes after having tasted knowledge and turning away from the world of vice. That is all couched in the terms of the christian moral order, of course. Nonetheless, most belief systems that pass judgment (whether or not it is explicitly moral judgment) will allow that there exists a gray area where someone cannot and should not be held accountable for what they have done precisely because they lack the capacity to understand what they have done. Lenny from "Of Mice and Men" comes to mind as a paradigmatic case of this. So much for the moral status of innocence, on to the question of where innocence ends and ignorance begins.

Up until now I have been speaking theoretically of innocence as an all or nothing affair; in practice I am more inclined to say that it is a matter of degrees. Most of us are innocent of lots of things in the world (in the senses of both knowing of them and of perpetrating them); but by the same token, we are all also stained by our time on the earth and no one makes it to adulthood without experiencing suffering, shame and (if not experiencing it firsthand) seeing evil done. But how do we know when we are no longer innocent? For some there occurs a definitive moment when they shed their naive views and are ushered abruptly into a world of iniquity and deviance. For others (the majority, I suspect) the process is erosive and subtle, one day we look back realize that we have lost something that we can not get back: the faith in the world being just, the pristine magic of imaginative play, the sense of an invisible safety net waiting to catch us- are just gone.

On the face of it, the difference between innocence and ignorance is clear: an ignorant person should know better whereas an innocent person is not at fault for not knowing any better, whether this is due to a developmental inability to do so, a lack of available information or some other extenuating circumstance. It is interesting to note that the distinction itself undermines the positive aura associated with innocence. If an ignorant person is someone who has no excuse for not being accountable for their actions, then they should be encouraged to correct their deficiency. That much is clear. What of innocence though? The prevailing attitude seems to be that innocence is a special state that should be preserved as long as possible. I take issue with this. This is not to say that we should be explaining the in and outs of sado-masochism to five year olds, or discussing the harsh realities of widespread famine, war and disease with eight year olds. However, if it comes up, i.e. if these grisly realities intrude on a child's life, is it necessarily better to keep them in the dark or lie to them, assuming that they have the capacity to understand the phenomenon, however grisly or perverse it may be? Frankly I am convinced that this sort of situation has no right answer and is another example of the morally ambiguity that surrounds innocence. If we are capable of knowing something that will better equip us for the dealing with the unsavory realities that we will face in world, is it not better to know than not to know? Of course, in some cases, the genie cannot be put back in the bottle and it is not always better to know, particularly when knowing will not change anything. If a situation, problem, atrocity or whatever the case may be cannot be remedied, it is probably better not to know of it.

Let us step back from the moral intricacies and look at the problem with a scientific eye. The developmental psychologist Jean Piaget had a multiple stage theory of children's mental development that sheds some light on the question at hand. We have already established that innocence is connected with knowledge in general and actionable knowledge in particular. In stage two of Piaget's schema (following the sensori-motor stage) the child begins to manipulate symbols and enters the world of language. Concurrently, the child is learning about all of the social relations that are mediated by language (manners, honorifics, promises etc.) I would argue that it is at this point, when we all really bite the apple, that the child starts to lose her innocence. This comes about gradually, not all at once. One day the child over hears her parents arguing and understands that words can wound; on the playground she witnesses (or participates, or is victimized by) bullying; when asked if she finished her dinner prior to eating dessert she lies to get her fix. This process is inevitable and irreversible. Though it is sad in a way, it is also an integral part of growing up. Sheltering a child from these realities is ultimately doing them a disservice. When they do finally enter the world they will more likely be viewed as dumbasses who never learned what is what, rather than sweet little innocent things. Perhaps I show my cynicism when I say that, but there is a fine line between cynicism and realism and I would much rather have a precocious, prematurely wizened child than a perpetual babe-in-the-woods.

lassitudinal inertia

Lately, perhaps because of the lack of sunshine, likely as not due to the lack of gainful employment, I have found myself feeling a bit stymied and blue. From where I'm at, my prospects seem limited and wage slavery looms large in my thoughts and fears. Maybe we'll go back to Korea, maybe I'll be a substitute teacher, maybe I'll live in Sara's mom's basement forever. (that last one is not really an option). Anyway, my thoughts, as ever, extrapolate my personal dilemma in to a general diagnosis of the societal malaise that we are all subject to. I think about the treadmill of the workaday world and how it circumscribes our life choices and stifles our dreams. I think of why it is that there seem to be no viable alternatives, no other system, no other method, no way out. Its damn depressing. Still, for me it helps to depersonalize my situation and realize that I am far from alone. This alienation is pretty much the rule not the exception in this day in age, particularly since the economy went and took a big shit, taking the promises of easy prosperity and comfy plentiful jobs with it. In my attempts to analyze the components of this situation, I find that there are certain personal behavioral patterns, certain external circumstances and persistent emotional colorings that conspire to keep me (and presumably lots of people) down. First of all, TV. Its omnipresent as the source of passive entertainment and, during the winter especially, what else are you going to do with your time. Well, I'm pretty sure that there's plenty to be done, but it all takes effort. Even reading a light book is hard work comparatively. I've been labeled a hater and an uppity ass by multiple people for harping on the time/ambition/brain destroying ways of the dreaded tube, but I shall persist even unto my dying breath, even as I currently watch 3-4 hours a day (making me a hypocrite as well as an uppity ass). Anyway, I read in the NY Times that there was a study that found that people that watch a lot of it are on the whole unhappier than people that watch less of it. That when combined with its particular tendency to make time evaporate lead me to lay some of the blame for my situation on its zombifying pixels. (note: I am particularly susceptible to zoning out completely on even the most retarded and inane crap. Perhaps that's why I hate it all the more; it just sucks me in, almost against my will). A second behavioral pattern that I've noticed in myself is something that spans all media: the phenomenon of skipping about and not sticking anything out. This is a direct result of living in a world flooded with information, entertainment and infotainment, most of which is at our fingertips. I might scan the Times, find out about some new figure in arts/politics/science look them up on Wikipedia for a half hour, see a word on Wikipedia and follow that to a new page on the concept. Then I'll get distracted and pick up a book for twenty minutes, lose interest, search for jobs, email a digital resume not really expecting anything to come of it (I've lost hope it seems), get discouraged, write about being frustrated,play guitar, get bored with that, turn on the TV, eat, urinate, comfort my squalling son, discuss with Sara about how I neglect her and the computer is my real girlfriend, read a different book for a while, go play games on Facebook, ad infinitum, ad nauseaum. And what is the net result? Nothing really gets done, I am awash in media, in interests, often in what I claim are passions of mine without doing justice to a single one of them. The teeming profusion of things can never be attended to; we drown in them every day without any real progress being made. So much for bad personal habits that contribute to my situation. On to the circumstances beyond my control. Apparently, the country is undergoing a bit of a recession or some such. You may have heard about it. Well I guess Ohio, and the Cincinnati area in particular are especially in an economic funk. So that sucks. More than just that though is the general observation, somewhat Marxist I suppose, that 99% of the jobs around are so soul-killing, specialized to the point of disconnected repetitive idiocy, totally mind-numbingly, snore-inducingly boring that the thought of doing them for any length of time frankly scares the bejesuses out of me. My other external circumstances are the duty of being a father. Don't get me wrong, I am happy that Cohen is here, today he gave a smile that lit the room and made me tear up a bit, really. He is my son and I love him. It's just that he takes a lot out of Sara and I. He's an energy sink, especially when he has a growth spurt or crying jag or intestinal distress or worrisome cough or chronic insomnia etc. If its not one thing it's another. Now, lest you think that I had forgotten the big picture and this has just turned into a laundry list of my personal complaints, Cohen to me represents a particular instance of a universal condition of duty toward others in my outline of the general problem under examination. Almost everyone has this towards someone, whether it is their grandma, father, dog, or wife, someone. Someone is relying on you to deliver the goods and you will be a crappy person if you fail them. The character of this duty is similar to the wealth of distractions at your fingertips in that its always there and its boundless. Just as we can never catch up on all the things there are to know and do, so also our duties towards others will never be fulfilled, they are everlasting. Our cups ever need filling and runneth under. Not sure why I'm getting quasi biblical on you, but I think you get my point by now. I am sure that there are more external factors that I am forgetting but those will suffice for now. Lastly, and the most subtle of the three factors that contribute to the condition I am dubbing lassitudinal inertia, is the emotional coloring that is in the background of all this. This could most aptly described as a general feeling of blah-ness. The stultification of day-in day-out routine, the blearyness of time that dulls the ambition of your more optimistic moments, the greyness that abides deep in every crevice of your mundane, quotidian existence, this elusive but palpable feeling-tone is the glue that holds your life in stasis. It is this that precludes radical changes in your life. There's something almost magical about how it operates. I may very well be attacking a straw man here. It's possible that what I have just described is nothing other than life in all its 21st century banality. Perhaps I am wrong to think that there is something else, something more out there. If we never have high expectations its pretty hard to be disappointed. Maybe I am just not counting my blessings, or I'm taking what I have for granted and failing to appreciate the simple joys that are there if I would just look for them. Nonetheless, on the off chance that what I've described isn't just the way it is and has to be, I'd like to search for a cure. I want more, I want the adventure I was told about and sold when I was new to the world. I want more for myself and my family than the prosaic, just getting by, ho-hum American mediocrity. And damn it, I'm gonna get it, or not.

Well then.

As with Facebook, I am dragged into to the 21st century by my righteous baby mama. Likely as not, I will end up thanking her as I did with Facebook eventually. The question remains though, what is the point of this? Does the internet really need another person bitching and moaning, chronicling their every bowel movement or bird on the wing they saw that morning, volunteering their opinion to the void? What do I have to say that the world needs to hear? Not too much I suppose, maybe I'm looking at it a little wrongheaded and grandiosely, perhaps it need be no more than a way for some friends to keep up my goings on and maybe share the occasional witticism or odd bit of news I come upon. Let's go with that for now.