Previously on TheAngryPen:

09-12-2000 2 Parties

08-18-2000 Al’s Acceptance

08-10-2000 Gore’s Choice

08-03-2000 The American Dream

07-20-2000 History and Hollywood

07-13-2000 40 Acres and a Mule

07-06-2000 The God We Trust

06-29-2000 Lyrical Assault

06-15-2000 Bank Fees

06-07-2000 A Mixture Often of Incongruous Elements

05-24-2000 Social Security

05-17-2000 Governmental Good Intentions

05-10-2000 Johnny Reb and Disgusting Fatbodies

05-03-2000 Low Fidelity

04-26-2000 Jackboots and Black Helicopters

04-19-2000 Movie Trailers

04-12-2000 All Things Cuban

04-05-2000 Censorship

03-29-2000 Juries and Tobacco

03-22-2000 Several Things

03-15-2000 Gore the Reformer

03-08-2000 Mission to Mars

03-08-2000 Super Tuesday

03-03-2000 Little Johnny Murderer

03-01-2000 Bob Jones

02-23-2000 The Christian Coalition

02-16-2000 Valentine's Day

02-09-2000 Short-Sighted Political Parties

02-02-2000 Mosh Pits

01-12-2000 Al Gore's Personality

11-17-1999 Playboy

09-02-1999 The Demise of Heavy Metal

	TheAngryPen vs. The American Dream

Last week, a friend asked me what The Pen would do if he suddenly found out he had a year to live.

"That's easy," I said. "I'd quit my job, cash out my 401K, load up my backpack, buy a plane ticket, and just go." My friend took a moment to think, then said, "me too."

All of which raises a question in the razor sharp mind of The Pen. If I know that I absolutely could not leave this world without taking a year to see all of it—if that would be the most important thing in my life and mind at the moment of my death—why aren't I doing that right now?

We'll come back to that. First, there's a larger issue that needs to be discussed.

We, as an American society, are faster, more connected, smarter, and more efficient than ever. So, if that's true, why are we working harder and longer, and getting less in return for that hard work, than ever before?

Sometimes The Pen feels like we're all chasing the same carbon-copied dream. Work your ass off now, so that you can have enough to live comfortably when you retire, with two weeks a year in the meantime to try and untie all the knots you spent the other fifty weeks tying. But when I take a step back to really consider the implications of that dream, The Pen doesn't really like what he sees. I'm supposed to bust my ass while I'm young and vibrant so that I can maybe, hopefully, someday, have all the things I want at just the moment when I'm too old and wrinkled to really enjoy them?

But hey, that's the way it works, right? What choice do we have?

Last fall I was out for a drive with a very close friend and we had this exact same conversation. I asked her, "Why are we working so hard?" And she said, "so we don't have to worry about who's gonna take care of us when we're old." I thought about it a minute and commented that the idea seemed pretty depressing. "Where's the payout?" I wondered. "What's it all about?"

We sat in silence for a while before she offered an answer as to why we Americans feel the need to work so much harder than the rest of the world. "Well, we do work hard, but it's worth it, because we have it better here." I nodded that I agreed, but something about that conclusion pissed me off in spite of my agreement. It wasn't her fault. She was dead right, from a certain point of view. There is a tremendous upside for those of us who buy into the "work shall set you free" version of the American Dream. For our efforts, we get a nice return on our investments, health insurance, pension plans, free coffee, a bottomless toilet paper roll… all the benefits of the most powerful economy on the planet.

But there's more to it than that, isn't there? After all, aren't those benefits dwindling as the years go by? My parents raised me on one income. I couldn't match that achievement in my wildest dreams. College tuition continues to skyrocket, so unless my future wife gives birth to Tiger Woods, I've got to make some incredibly aggressive, incredibly lucky investments if I expect to be able to provide for him in that way. Rent at Grandma Pen's retirement community is, like, 1500 dollars a month. I can't afford that now, in the prime of my life.

And in any case, is financial security all there is to life?

The Pen thinks not.

Something continued to eat away at The Pen, and after a while, I reversed myself. "You know, I'm not so sure about that. I'm not so sure we do have it better here. Italians close their businesses for a nap in the middle of the afternoon, they end each day with an enormous home-cooked meal, surrounded by their entire families, and they actually believe that life is too short to drink bad wine. I, by contrast, haven't even been able to attend a Happy Hour since college. I work from eight in the morning until eight at night. If I'm lucky, I have an hour left to go to the gym, or cook dinner, or watch TV, or read a book. But usually I just go to sleep so that I can be ready to do it all over again. Now, it's true that this is a choice. But if I want the house, and the car, and the kids, and the retirement… in essence, The Dream, I have to make that choice in order to keep up. I have to squeeze myself into that American cookie-cutter."

We are attracted to different people. We like different kinds of art, music, and films; there are hundreds of different magazines and newspapers out there, all catering to tiny little fragments of our society. Some people eat sushi, some people gag on the stuff. So why are we all buying into the same damn dream? Doesn't it follow logically that some of us are square pegs trying to force ourselves into round holes?

The Pen thinks that part of it is fear. If I quit my job to travel for a year, what will I do when I wake up in 365 days to find I'm still alive. Start over? Maybe. But, I don't think most of us have ever taken a moment out of the rat race to think about what we really want and need out of our lives… really honestly asked ourselves whether the choices we've made, the doors we've closed behind us, were the correct ones. Because the truth in those questions is monumentally frightening. But, all important choices are terrifying. Change brings fear. But that fear can be good. It let's you know you're alive. I say, take that moment. Once a day, once a week, twice a year… The Pen doesn't care. But do it. It's at least as important to your happiness as the amount you put into your 401K.

Which brings us back to my deathbed wish. Why haven't I quit my job and hit the road?

The answer is both complicated and simple. See, I'm not dying. I may have seventy years left on this rock. And when you have time, you have options. I want to see the world. But I also want to make a million dollars, marry my dream girl, start a family; climb Mount Everest, dive the Titanic, see a tiger in the wild. And there's time for it all, if I plan it right.

Bit by bit, by precious bit… The Pen intends to enjoy as much of it as he can.