You know, Mom always said war and poverty signaled your entry into adulthood (not in those words exactly, but that was the general gist. According to this theory, I’m pretty much always destined for perpetual juvenility, hooray! Her perspective is shaped by a childhood overlapping with the Korean War, a not-so-fun immigration experience, and a few broke-ass years, etc.)
For me, as a citizen of contemporary, middle-class America, being adult means trying to get through the paperwork, constant paperwork. I am constantly filing health claims, immunization forms, taxes, employee information forms, submitting check requests, filling out credit car information….and my god, it can drive you absolutely bananas. I help my folks handle the mystery of their hospital bills whenever they run into trouble and Mom says I’m very talented at it and should start a freelance business…um, I think I’d rather hurl for a living.
Anyway, I am reading the hilarious and yet depressing Personal Days, a novel by Ed Park. It examines how much modern life is impacted by technology and corporate culture. Like you know when you write in Word and you get a random two lines that are double space and in Tahoma point 14, while everything else is Calibri single space font point 11? And no matter what you do, you can’t change the formatting so you end up re-typing the whole thing? Please tell me I’m not the only one and I’m some kind of idiot. Either way, those kinds of daily minutiae can make you bonk. Read the book at your own risk.
SIDEBAR
…at the same time, I always feel incredibly lucky. I’m a U.S. citizen – you know how many illegal immigrants are trying to scrape a living here? Can you imagine how stressful that is? If they get seriously ill or in an accident, they have sweat whether Immigration will be called plus be charged like $20,000 for an x-ray? So like 1) I don’t have to worry about daily bombings (bonus); 2) I have a drivers license, passport, and health insurance (bonus); 3) I went to college (bonus); 4) not only did I go to college, I went to a fancy college, all of which exponentially increases the likelihood that I can find a job. But these are actual thoughts I have. I’m not just making it up to lessen the crankiness of the first entry. Years ago, a co-worker nicknamed me Crankston Hughes. 🙁
Years ago, someone who I wanted to date nicknamed me Crabby. I’ve been avoiding making an insurance call for weeks.
noooooooooo!