Compromise

I think a problem we as the human race have willingly acquired is this desperate desire to reach that ultimate goal…universal happiness. I, being young and naïve, of course believe that every aspect of my life will fall magically and conveniently into place. I’ll get married at 30, have a million jobs offers the day I leave university, and be comfortable and perfect for the rest of my days. And everybody thinks that. Now there is nothing wrong with ambition, but when did mere contentment with what you have gained become a cop out?

It’s a shame everything nowadays is either dramatized, bubble wrapped or sugar coated. There is no real happy medium anymore. You have glossy celebrities, failed celebrities, and we all know how dismal the news is. When was the last good thing we heard? A celebrity marriage perhaps…because they last long enough to create optimism, obviously.

As I’ve said before, there is a large portion of me that relishes in simplicities, and even more so in beautiful flaws. For example, my lovely friends and I have achieved a brilliantly grown up goal of renting a house for next year. As I walked around the place I fell in love with the dated carpets, the flaking paint, the slightly dusty and potentially destructive wooden floors, the rusty hinges and the curtains held up by drawing pins thumped generously into the wall above the window. Could I be so smug as to say I can apply this love of imperfections to what I want out of life?

Certainly not.

Back in the day men would follow the professions of their fathers and women would be happy as secretaries and/or mothers. There was no such thing as a job not worth doing. People were willing to work hard for their pay, and were willing to pay for the things they needed. I admire this more trustworthy way of being. Nowadays we all want as much as we can get for as little as we can pay. And the more you pay doesn’t necessarily mean better quality either. A tailored suit could cost a lot less than a shiny designer one off Asos. So what am I trying to say in this meandering babble?

I guess I’m saying it’s a shame, the way we have grown accustomed to living. We are all sticky fingered little bastards in one way or another, always on the lookout for what we can get our paws on. I’m no different though, and I would be lying if I straddled my high horse and said I was. Such is life. But I’m pretty sure I was born after my era…1921 would have done me perfect I think. Days of chivalry, patriotic pride, and not a scrap of bubble wrap anywhere.