My Father’s Ethics: A guide to fulfillment in a wage labor economy

I remember very vividly sitting in a class titled African American Diaspora wondering how to escape the rat race of capitalism and consumerism. The intersection of the Protestant Work-Ethic, the American Dream, and Consumer Debt seemed overwhelming in its sound, inescapable structure. As a college student about to graduate, it was startling to realize my whole concept of a successful life was actually built upon the abuse of a wage labor system that was successful only if it limited the number of people who rose to the top. This didn’t necessarily lead me to Communism, but it did make me wonder about why we work, and why we need to work so hard, if it only creates a cycle of unhappiness and stress.

As one could probably guess, that thought process ended abruptly when I graduated and decided not to go to graduate school immediately, but to work for a few years. All I really thought about was making enough money to live, which thankfully, after just getting out of college didn’t have to be very much. I worked for a non-profit for almost no money and then went back to graduate school. Life, however, threw a few curve balls and in my second quarter I had to drop out. Now I am back to working full time, but with a full salary to match the amount of work I do.

However, working full-time has it’s price. Rising gas prices, the cost of cable and Internet, and then the college loans and unexpected bills add up to suck any extras out of my pay check. Added to that is the frustration over co-workers. Seeing people come in late, take extra days off, and having to cover other people’s work loads just so they can twiddle their thumbs is frustrating. I ask myself the age old question: why do they get paid the same, if not more, than I, when I do more work than them? Thankfully, Father’s Day was this weekend.

Talking to my dad this weekend was like calling God. He always has something to say that I can learn and benefit from. This time, however, as I sat on my couch complaining about work, the advice he gave me was anything but revolutionary. He did not advocate for “telling” on my useless co-worker by reporting the behavior to my boss. He did not urge me to challenge the system by being open and honest and confrontational. Instead, he told me to work the way I know how to work, which is with integrity. He urged me to do the best job that I can do, but to also take pride in it. To recognize that I am doing the best I can, and to continue to derive some sort of personal happiness from my own work ethic.

However, he also told me to bide my time. To wait and have faith that I would, one day, get the opportunity to be validated. If not by my bosses, then by an opportunity to change the structure, to set the rules and standards, and to reward true merit. While my career goals aren’t necessarily to be the “boss,” I do pride myself on having my peers recognize my work. And for now, it is enough to keep me happy and content at my job.

Now, to some, my dad’s advice may seem counter to my initial thoughts in college. It is exactly my dad’s way of thinking that feeds into and supports our capitalistic economic system. Yet, what I value about my dad’s advice is precisely that: it is a way of being happy within a system I cannot change. Sure I could be a revolutionary and advocate for change. In many ways, I think I still am, as I firmly believe in human rights, fair trade, and social services. At the same time, I need to be happy now, in the current unfair way our world is organized.

What my dad has told me, over and over again, is that I need to be happy within myself and not let other people or events bother me so much. This is especially true of work; the only way I can achieve a life of fulfillment and happiness is if my standards are internal. If I have goals that I can control and work towards and ultimately fulfill. If I look to the world to satisfy me, or create a system in which I can prosper or feel nurtured in, I would be setting myself up for disappointment.

Frigid, or my otherwise lack of passion

When I think of the most important people in my life, they are usually associated with their loves–love of children, love of baseball, love of reading, love of Star Wars. I have no such loves. Perhaps the most I’ve got going for me is I’ve read all of the completed written novels of Jane Austin. But even my co-worker’s wife beats me as she’s read biographies, critical analysis, and seen all of the movies of Jane Austin books.

My boyfriend is a wonderland of information about music, popculture, and movies. My co-worker is an avid James Bond, Indian Jones, Star Wars, and soccer fan. My friend from college is an artist and has nurtured his artistic nature with knowledge about art, art history, politics, popculture, and wikipedia. I have noticed in my life a strange lack of any consistent, or sustained interest in any one thing. Sure I have all three Gidget moves (on VHS), but I never watched the tv show and have no trivia knowledge of the history of Gidget. I don’t watch any tv show religiously, am not passionate about one music genre, and could care less whether or not the Lakers win the NBA Championships. I watch CSI the most out of all tv shows, but please, do not give me a CSI tshirt for Christmas, or the episodes on DVD because I will not wear it or watch them again.

What is wrong with me? I love lots of things! My facebook profile can attest to it: sunshine, moving, reading, jogging, cooking, clutch and throttle (a tribute to earning my motorcycle license), and of course writing. I used to think Africa was my passion. African history in particular and human rights in general were of the greatest concern to me in college. However, after life hit me over the head more than a few times, my interest was wandered much closer to home.

Instead of Africa I think about the homeless man I give change to and who takes that as an invitation to hold my hand. I think of how the public transportation system in Los Angeles is horrible, and am amazed I used it exclusively for two years. I wonder about politics, health care, education, and whether people with mental illnesses should have places they can live where they lead as independent lives as possible, without drowning in medical bills and losing themselves to the fog of mysterious voices and uncontrollable emotions.

These aren’t exactly interests that can win me a spot on Jeopardy, or Beauty and the Geek (the reality tv show I would most like to be in). Instead, I am contemplating a life ahead of me distinct only in its lack of all-consuming passions. While maybe this shouldn’t be as depressing as it sounds in my head, my lack of interest scares me because it means I will never be great. I will not be the next great yo-yo champion, or the premier expert on Haruki Murakami. Anything I will be, will be due to some accident of fate or stroke of good luck. That idea doesn’t make me feel good.

In defense of stubbornness

I have been accused of being stubborn for most of my life. I am pretty comfortable being labeled with this characteristic, largely because I don’t see much of a problem with it. It’s important to me that I say what I mean, that I can defend what I believe, and that I maintain some sort of consistency on political, social and moral issues. I want to be dependable, consistent, and reliable. However, I can’t shake the feeling that when some people call me stubborn, they are really putting me down; that somehow being stubborn is a bad thing.

My inclination is to think this has something to do with postmodernism. The idea that there is no absolute truth, that all experience is relative, is touted as a way of promoting peace and universal understanding. These ideas are heavily discussed in college and since I graduated from college I have become comfortable thinking about the world in such terms. Yet, postmodernism presents a problem when it comes to developing confidence in any one way of thinking or believing.  It is a fine line to walk, acknowledging the limits of the human experience and still holding on to beliefs whether they are religious or otherwise.

 For many people, postmodernism presents an opportunity not to choose sides, not to make a stand, and to change in any number of ways so as to bend to what is popular at any exact time and place. The people who use postmodern ideas to become chameleon-like are the people most uncomfortable with stubbornness. When I think back to earlier eras, being stubborn was a good characteristic. It meant you had some backbone. And while I can openly admit that being stubborn isn’t always a good thing, it’s not something I want to be afraid of either.

Now, I like to think that although I am stubborn, I am also the kind of person who can admit when I am wrong, apologize when I’ve hurt someone’s feelings, and revise an opinion as I grow and develop. In large part, I focus on cultivating those kinds of characteristics because they are necessary for building strong, authentic relationships. The people in my life are very important to me and I am not conceited enough to believe I am perfect. Change is certainly not a bad thing and if I can do things that can help me to be a better person, I am more than happy to do so. But I do believe that being a consistent, reliable person with known ethics and morals makes interacting with me easy. Here are your boundaries, trespass them if you dare, but do so knowing the consequences. It’s pretty simple when you think about it.

Party Unity! (a scary thought)

I’ll openly admit that in a former life I voted for Ralph Nader. I was going to be damned if I let Michael Moore tell me who to vote for. And perhaps I was one of the many people who caused the Democratic Party loose the presidency to another four years of hell with George W Bush. But there is something that is distinctly undemocratic about the Democratic Party telling me to vote a certain way.

With this Presidential Election, I am enthralled by the two Democratic candidates. Hillary Clinton, potentially the first woman President of the United States, is a strong, capable, pragmatic, and smart woman. She represents a hope that surpasses the daily degradation women still endure, both in this country and throughout the world. And yet, she also represents what can go horribly wrong. She has integrated into mainstream politics to such a degree that I question her integrity, her honesty, and her willingness to continue to fight for issues like health care, in the midst of overwhelming odds.

Which is why there is a halo shinning above Barack Obama’s head. Here is a man representing a whole other ambition for our society. It is a dream of a society united and strong both in its diversity and its idealism. But still there is fear. Fear that perhaps to do the most good, we have to bend in ways that may be unethical. Obama, if elected as President, would be the most dangerous experiement the United States has attempted since its founding; he would, if successful, show there is a better way of doing politics.

But after the first few months of this heady and exciting race, Democrats began calling for unity. We need party unity, they cried, because otherwise Republican John McCain will beat us in the general election. This is a very practical, very political way of running the Democratic Party. Consolidate power, subdue minority voices, and focus solely on winning. Great practical tactics for winning. But in my opinion, there is no “winning” in politics. When an individual is elected into office it is because a majority of those voting have put their confidence in that individual. The majority, in the case of the United States, should always “win,” even if I disagree.

However, I am concerned that the entire country is missing an important opportunity that the primary election represents. The primary election is a time when the Democratic Party can sit down and listen to the issues of the people. See where the candidates differ and figure out which issues are important to different people. This is why the presidential elections are so important. It give me a chance to get outside of my own little world and to understand what the concerns are of other Americas. I want to know what issues are affecting the lives of people I have not met and cannot talk to and I want to hear what the great thinkers in our country are coming up with in terms of creating positive, constructive solutions to these problems.

I hope that someone on Barack Obama’s staff is whispering thoughts similar to mine in his ear. I hope that there are people that surround him, support him, and ground him in the midst of this political frenzy. I am encouraged that he is no longer accepting donations from lobbyist. But I worry that this idea of politics has trickled down into the individual hearts and minds of the voting public. I worry that each person standing at the ballot box is trying to think strategically, trying to outmaneuver the person next to them. I worry that they forget about the issues each candidate represents, about what their own vision is of this country, and what their own hopes are for their children and their children’s children.

I don’t apologize for the way I voted in the last Presidential Election. The saying “history repeats itself” is another way of saying people are not good at learning from their mistakes. Perhaps I have not yet learned from my mistakes. Perhaps my philosophy on voting and my ideas about politics will never win.  I’m not sure if I’m okay with that yet. But I do know, that I, for one, will never demand another person to vote any other way than their conscience. That is how I believe a democracy should work–people voting according to their conscience.

Self-examination, self-indulgence, and the dangers of blogging

This is my second attempt at a blog. The first was started years ago due to peer pressure. It is easy to imagine why it was quickly forgotten. However, the idealism which surrounds blogging still attracts me. To have my words read, and perhaps even thought about by other people, is exciting.

I am conceited enough to believe I have important ideas, some perhaps even groundbreaking. This desire to share is driven by a need to examine not just the world around me, but myself. Yet, I would be foolish not to admit that this blog is also a form of self-indulgence. The number of people reading my blog, the type of responses my words provoke, and of course the fame and glory the comes with blogging is vastly appealing.

However, I am also intensly afraid of blogging. In fact, I have thought of blogging on and off for many years. I love reading and writing, but technology leaves me cold. To read someone elses words is intensly personal. Contrast that with the impersonal nature of the internet and an internal debate begins. Should I allow strangers glimpses of myself? Should I reveal the deeply personal problems that plague my thoughts when I hesitate to tell even my closest of friends? And what, as the world judges my thoughts and words, would I do if I fail? Opening myself up, not just to criticism, but the hurtful responses of callous individuals is scary.

All the same, here I am. Blogging, perhaps seriously, perhaps not. But I am driven by the words of e.e. cummings. To damn the one-eyed son of a bitch and eat flowers. Perhaps I will regret this in a year. Perhaps in as soon as a few hours. But I need to get over the idea of failure. It’s not failure, it’s life.