Nuestros Hijos (To Be Happy)
When I think of the American Dream, I think of this picture. I saw it a couple years ago, though I don't remember where.
"They kill our kids on the other side, too"
I think that the American Dream is the idea if you work hard enough, you will be successful. I am equating this idea of success with financial success; success, I personally believe, is an ambiguous, relative term, but conventionally tends to be associated with money. Money, though, is far different from wealth. The whole idea also calls to my mind this quote: "a rich man is nothing but a poor man with money" (again, I've no idea where this came from). For me, wealth is two-faced: money and love. Financial wealth is undoubtedly enabling, but like the adage goes, you can only be so happy with so much money. And money comes with its own set of problems. In voicing my relationship frustrations to Mr. Nolan, he always tells me that dating a poor human is easy. They're just happy to be there. Dating a rich human, though, indubitably means that they perceive you as an extension of themself- and, consequently, of their own success. I say this simply to evidence that financial wealth brings along its own unique set of problems.
Given this, I'd argue that the American perception of wealth and poverty deviates from my own. I was recently reading an article from The Atlantic called Workism Is Making Americans Miserable, which spoke to the ("depressing") 21st century phenomenon of equating your identity with your job. The article mentioned that in a recent Pew Research Report survey, 95% of teens said that "having a job or career they enjoy" would be "extremely or very important" to them as an adult. Understandable, of course- but they ranked this higher than "helping other people who are in need" (81%) or getting married (47%). We live in a culture that is intent on actualizing the American Dream of monetary luxury. I'm all on board for enjoying your job, but I don't think that your employment should be your primary, exclusive source of happiness, especially given that the system is so often skewed. There's a reason Friday feels so good. Sure, I'm pleased when I get a good grade on something I've worked hard towards, but I love my friends in a way that's simply incomparable to the satisfaction of professional achievement.
Coming from Enloe to MHS IB, it has been my impression that my generation's American Dream is money derivative of STEM fields: engineering, medicine, computer science, etc. I have spent a considerable amount of time beating myself over the head for my innate lack of aptitude for STEM, which I always considered would be downfall, my own piteous hamartia; "what am I supposed to do with my life if I can't even find domain and range?" I wailed to my math teacher from the linoleum floor last week, while he, in a sort of obnoxious voyeurism, shook his head resignedly and ate another peanut butter M&M. Is that it? Is this it? The proverbial American Dream? An upper-middle class white female with a loving family, stable home life, access to prestigious education, and supportive social circles, sobbing into dirty floor tiles and lamenting her future because of a virtually suspended circle?
Because I'm pretty sure I don't have any reason to complain. I am sitting here finishing this post on my Macbook, my $5 coffee within a finger's reach. I don't think it's my job to try and achieve the American Dream; objectively, I already have. Instead, I think it's my responsibility to help those to whom the system is inherently opposed. Gatsby really should have just donated his money to charity. He probably would have been happy, his recipients probably would have been happy, the economy probably would have been happy, and I'd sure as hell be happy because this book wouldn't have taken place and we wouldn't have had to read it (nothing personal, Mrs. G). Gatsby achieved his rags-to-riches American Dream... but then he didn't do anything with it but fruitlessly pine after his one-month-loved 16 y.o. "soulmate!" Even with Gatsby's story, in reflecting on how Fitzgerald writes, I think you could argue that the American Dream isn't even achievable, really; rather, it's a rallying cry to be optimistic, to be hopeful. It isn't a destination, but an endless journey. Indeed, each time Fitzgerald speaks to the green light, which is located on Daisy's dock, there's water imagery:
"... He stretched out his arms toward the dark water... involuntarily I glanced seaward- and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock." (Fitzgerald 33)
"After the house we were to see the grounds and the swimming pool... but outside Gatsby's window it began to rain again... 'If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay,' said Gatsby. 'You always have a green light the burns all night at the end of your dock.'" (Fitzgerald 87)
"Gatsby believed in the green light... So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." (Fitzgerald 154)
To me, I think this facet is indicative of the fluidity and malleability of the American Dream. In associating- almost equating- the green light with water, Fitzgerald asserts that the American Dream is beautifully esoteric, constantly slipping through our fingers as we try and clutch at it. It's certainly not all it's cracked up to be- by God, Gatsby's last moments are of him bleeding into the pool, drowning in his American Dream. In what we see with Gatsby, at the very least, the American Dream just isn't very clear-cut.
The green light, the water, the leaves that pool around Gatsby's body... the American Dream seems to be as steady and constant as the rhythm of nature. Just as we are attuned to the timing of seasonal changes (as is the motif in The Great Gatsby)- light and darkness, hot and cold, life and death- so too we do define ourselves by our beginnings and ends, our ability to actualize our pursuits. We are binary creatures. The American Dream, whatever form it takes for the individual, is the the finish line, and we gauge our success based on how far away it is from the start.
For me, this is the problem with my regular STEM-steeped sob sessions. I measure myself in relation to convention, to the microcosm that is IB's American Dream- I am far from what I am "supposed" to be good at (domain and range), far from where I am "supposed" to be (a senior in math studies, as opposed to SL or HL), and far from ensuring what is "supposed" to guarantee my future success (a "low-level" math alongside a lack of a physical science). The standard I've been holding myself to is Gatsby's. The standard I need to hold myself to is Fitzgerald's.
I should note that I'm quite aware of how directionless this read/writing was. Maybe the tangential nature of this blog post is an unconscious illustration of how complex the American Dream is. I'll try and wrap it up. At the end of the day, my opinion is that we could all benefit from stopping and smelling the roses. Taking a deep breath to pause, recognize, and savor the part of the journey you are located at is incredibly valuable. So when I think of what my American Dream is, who I am now, and what I want to be, I think I satisfy's Mrs. G's request to be optimistic. I want to be happy- now and in the future. I want to help other people be happy, too, and if that means helping them with their American Dream, then we all win. It doesn't really matter how close I am to the average, the "'supposed' to"s, the "should"s. As long as I'm okay, I think I'm on my way to my American Dream. I kind of think I've already made it happen.
Fitzgerald, F. Scott. "The Great Gatsby." 1925. Scribner Classics. Accessed 17 March 2019.
Villicaña, Crisstian. "Del otro lado también matan a nuestros hijos." 19 December 2018. https://letrascualquiera.info/2018/12/19/del-otro-lado-tambien-matan-a-nuestros-hijos/. Accessed 17 March 2019.
Given this, I'd argue that the American perception of wealth and poverty deviates from my own. I was recently reading an article from The Atlantic called Workism Is Making Americans Miserable, which spoke to the ("depressing") 21st century phenomenon of equating your identity with your job. The article mentioned that in a recent Pew Research Report survey, 95% of teens said that "having a job or career they enjoy" would be "extremely or very important" to them as an adult. Understandable, of course- but they ranked this higher than "helping other people who are in need" (81%) or getting married (47%). We live in a culture that is intent on actualizing the American Dream of monetary luxury. I'm all on board for enjoying your job, but I don't think that your employment should be your primary, exclusive source of happiness, especially given that the system is so often skewed. There's a reason Friday feels so good. Sure, I'm pleased when I get a good grade on something I've worked hard towards, but I love my friends in a way that's simply incomparable to the satisfaction of professional achievement.
Coming from Enloe to MHS IB, it has been my impression that my generation's American Dream is money derivative of STEM fields: engineering, medicine, computer science, etc. I have spent a considerable amount of time beating myself over the head for my innate lack of aptitude for STEM, which I always considered would be downfall, my own piteous hamartia; "what am I supposed to do with my life if I can't even find domain and range?" I wailed to my math teacher from the linoleum floor last week, while he, in a sort of obnoxious voyeurism, shook his head resignedly and ate another peanut butter M&M. Is that it? Is this it? The proverbial American Dream? An upper-middle class white female with a loving family, stable home life, access to prestigious education, and supportive social circles, sobbing into dirty floor tiles and lamenting her future because of a virtually suspended circle?
Because I'm pretty sure I don't have any reason to complain. I am sitting here finishing this post on my Macbook, my $5 coffee within a finger's reach. I don't think it's my job to try and achieve the American Dream; objectively, I already have. Instead, I think it's my responsibility to help those to whom the system is inherently opposed. Gatsby really should have just donated his money to charity. He probably would have been happy, his recipients probably would have been happy, the economy probably would have been happy, and I'd sure as hell be happy because this book wouldn't have taken place and we wouldn't have had to read it (nothing personal, Mrs. G). Gatsby achieved his rags-to-riches American Dream... but then he didn't do anything with it but fruitlessly pine after his one-month-loved 16 y.o. "soulmate!" Even with Gatsby's story, in reflecting on how Fitzgerald writes, I think you could argue that the American Dream isn't even achievable, really; rather, it's a rallying cry to be optimistic, to be hopeful. It isn't a destination, but an endless journey. Indeed, each time Fitzgerald speaks to the green light, which is located on Daisy's dock, there's water imagery:
"... He stretched out his arms toward the dark water... involuntarily I glanced seaward- and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock." (Fitzgerald 33)
"After the house we were to see the grounds and the swimming pool... but outside Gatsby's window it began to rain again... 'If it wasn't for the mist we could see your home across the bay,' said Gatsby. 'You always have a green light the burns all night at the end of your dock.'" (Fitzgerald 87)
"Gatsby believed in the green light... So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past." (Fitzgerald 154)
To me, I think this facet is indicative of the fluidity and malleability of the American Dream. In associating- almost equating- the green light with water, Fitzgerald asserts that the American Dream is beautifully esoteric, constantly slipping through our fingers as we try and clutch at it. It's certainly not all it's cracked up to be- by God, Gatsby's last moments are of him bleeding into the pool, drowning in his American Dream. In what we see with Gatsby, at the very least, the American Dream just isn't very clear-cut.
The green light, the water, the leaves that pool around Gatsby's body... the American Dream seems to be as steady and constant as the rhythm of nature. Just as we are attuned to the timing of seasonal changes (as is the motif in The Great Gatsby)- light and darkness, hot and cold, life and death- so too we do define ourselves by our beginnings and ends, our ability to actualize our pursuits. We are binary creatures. The American Dream, whatever form it takes for the individual, is the the finish line, and we gauge our success based on how far away it is from the start.
For me, this is the problem with my regular STEM-steeped sob sessions. I measure myself in relation to convention, to the microcosm that is IB's American Dream- I am far from what I am "supposed" to be good at (domain and range), far from where I am "supposed" to be (a senior in math studies, as opposed to SL or HL), and far from ensuring what is "supposed" to guarantee my future success (a "low-level" math alongside a lack of a physical science). The standard I've been holding myself to is Gatsby's. The standard I need to hold myself to is Fitzgerald's.
I should note that I'm quite aware of how directionless this read/writing was. Maybe the tangential nature of this blog post is an unconscious illustration of how complex the American Dream is. I'll try and wrap it up. At the end of the day, my opinion is that we could all benefit from stopping and smelling the roses. Taking a deep breath to pause, recognize, and savor the part of the journey you are located at is incredibly valuable. So when I think of what my American Dream is, who I am now, and what I want to be, I think I satisfy's Mrs. G's request to be optimistic. I want to be happy- now and in the future. I want to help other people be happy, too, and if that means helping them with their American Dream, then we all win. It doesn't really matter how close I am to the average, the "'supposed' to"s, the "should"s. As long as I'm okay, I think I'm on my way to my American Dream. I kind of think I've already made it happen.
Fitzgerald, F. Scott. "The Great Gatsby." 1925. Scribner Classics. Accessed 17 March 2019.
Villicaña, Crisstian. "Del otro lado también matan a nuestros hijos." 19 December 2018. https://letrascualquiera.info/2018/12/19/del-otro-lado-tambien-matan-a-nuestros-hijos/. Accessed 17 March 2019.
ANNE ROSS THIS WAS BEAUTIFUL HOW ARE YOU SUCH A GOOD WRITER!!?!???! Jeez, that had so many complex ideas intertwined into others but it made perfect sense. I understood it all and I loved every tangent and personal anecdote. Saying this, I agree with your quest to be optimistic. I feel as the "American Dream" of people nowadays, especially those our age, is to be happy. I consider myself an inherently optimistic person, and I oftentime come across annoying as heck people who don't stop coMPLAINING. They complain about what is upsetting them, rather than focusing on what can please them. The brighter side is what people are ultimately hoping to reach. Great job Anne Ross ily.
ReplyDeletePS I forgive you for trying to poison me.
WOW once again you astound me. This was incredible. It was inspiring and complex and truly emulated the American Dream. I saw you writing this in TOK and immediately knew I wanted to read it. As a side note, I'd love to hear you talk about the picture you started out the blog with. I know you said you associate the American Dream with it, and I think that could be very interesting to further explore. I will talk to you about this tomorrow. Also, who needs STEM skills when you can write like this??
ReplyDeletePlease become an author. It would be a disservice to the world if they couldn't experience your writing. I actually had to stop and scramble to Google because your vocabulary is just that expansive. Your post wasn't directionless. In fact, the organic nature and tone to your writing style is what gave this post structure. Just like the fluidity of the American Dream (incredible analysis, by the way. I can't believe I didn't catch the water imagery!), this post developed seamlessly into a solid and insightful exploration of wealth and its merits. I agree with Megan, you're too good for STEM. Have no doubt that I will continue reading your posts religiously. I have nothing else to say except I love this and I love you okay thx bye.
ReplyDeleteHey Anne Ross. Liked your blog post. Like others have said, it's very well written. Sabian put it well: there's a very organic nature to it. I liked how you looked at the water in Gatsby - although I see the water differently. That's alright. It was a nice read. I like how you exaggerate your frustrations with math and whatnot, you satirize your obsessions and shortcomings in a charming way. Unless, of course, you actually did sob on the linoleum floor, in which case, go easy on yourself! But you already know that.
ReplyDeleteAs per usual, your blog was a really accurate portrayal of who you are with a clear voice, asserted opinion, and as Sam mentioned, characteristic satire of things you perceive as your own weaknesses. Like always, this blog made me laugh, but it also made me internalize some of my own perceptions about the world around me. In my mind, solid work is work that makes you think and feel, both of which you accomplished. Great job. Also, I really liked the incorporation of a visual aid.
ReplyDeleteOh heck. BTW, that was Lexie^
DeleteWow. I feel like when I read anything you write, my brain grows about 3 sizes. Your blog post was awesome. I thought that it was very well written and I think that you brought up a lot of good points. It was very easy and fun to read. Great post.
DeleteAnne Ross, I feel like this is overkill but just know that I always love your blog. When we are moving through life, especially in this all-encompassing IB world, we can often be tricked into thinking that what is around us is all there is. I think you point out something very important when you recognize that life is so much bigger than that. Gatsby died an empty death, but I am confident that you won't. Keep writing and know that your voice is much more powerful than your ability to find domain and range.
ReplyDelete