When I look back at some of my early blog posts, I am struck by how different they are from what I'm writing now - stylistically, topically, philosophically... I don't like saying this, because it seems like discrediting the whole purpose of the blog, especially at its inception, but the word that often comes to mind is "immature." I have definitely had a facepalm moment or two reading back over old posts.
I'm used to retrospectively recognizing changes in my own perspective, philosophy, emotional maturity... But there are fewer times when I record sudden and dramatic paradigm shifts as they happen.
Recently I've noticed this happening with a kind of sweeping frequency, like my mindset is going through a total overhaul, piece by piece: first work, then money, then faith...and it's really bizarre. But I think the sum effect is a positive one.
The first domino fell when I read an article on Slate a few months ago, about how the Do What You Love/Love What You Do mantra is elitist, how it overvalues the role of "work" in people's lives and undervalues jobs that are looked down upon but entirely necessary to the functioning of society. As I read it I felt my opinion changing. For a typically stubborn person who likes to mull things over before accepting them, this was an entirely new experience. Maybe it's weird in general, for anyone.
Since then, I have done a lot of mulling over, and I don't reject the "mantra" as vehemently now as I did after my initial reading. But the way I approach work has definitely shifted since then, with some support from outside conversations about the impact of work on personal relationships, and my growing obsession with reading articles on LinkedIn (most of which are about work and work culture). I think there is some value to finding something we actually enjoy doing, and getting paid for it, but I'm recognizing the value in letting work be work, and leaving work at work when the day is over.
And maybe this perspective also soothes some of the shock many of us felt upon leaving college, feeling pushed to fulfill our greatest dreams and make a ton of money and "do anything," when suddenly none of that seemed so possible anymore. Particularly in the post-recession economy. Sometimes, we just have to get by, and find fulfillment outside of the nine-to-five (or serving shifts, or the school day... whatever keeps your boat afloat).
And then there's money. Something I have always worried about. For awhile I got caught up in the "making more" paradigm, the culture of spending more and being frustrated when whatever it was cost too much and everyone else seemed to be perfectly comfortable just shelling out.
I've been talking about it a lot, with my mom, my dad, and with J, and even with a financial life planner. I've been hearing that familiar "thou shalt not worry about earthly things" message in sermon after sermon for years (and even more often lately), frustrated by the Gospel's inability to understand how impossible it is, to just not worry about money, and clothes, and food, and my car. I've been jealously clicking through pictures of my friends who seem to be embracing their characteristic millennial broke-ness with proper millennial nonchalance.
And then, earlier this month, one of my friends posted an article: You Don't Have To Be Rich In Your 20s: How Much Money You Should Actually Be Making. And even though I didn't 100% agree with the article, or want the life it touted, something clicked for me: I make enough. I'm not broke. I eat enough. I do a lot of things I like to do. I have gas in my car. I'm even saving. And there's nothing productive in worrying about paying for a wedding, because the important thing is that I'm going to marry the guy I love, and I really think our hearts and minds are in the right place on that whole issue.
A lot of the topics I've wrestled on this blog are serious aspects of adult life and even, in some cases, of basic survival. Lately I find myself thinking back to an interview with the author of a fairly new parenting book. The book is called All Joy and No Fun, and her main point is basically (bluntly) that parenting can kinda make life suck, if you measure by the same standards of personal happiness that you use when you're single; but it's worth it, because it brings joy to your life. Joy and happiness are not necessarily the same thing.
I've latched onto this idea because there are a lot of things I have to do, and even things I choose to do, that don't always make me feel happy, per se, but in the long run they bring joy and contentment to my life. That's what I've found with work, and finances, and exercise, and even cooking and eating. But I'm determined to hit on long-term happiness, and living a joyful and beautiful life, and I think I'm doing that.
One of the reasons I'm bringing the blog to an end this year is that I'm starting to get a sense of divergence in the collective lives of my class. I write fewer posts that I expect will be relatable to a general majority of my reader base. I don't entirely expect that this post, in particular, will hit home for a whole bunch of people. I think we, as a class, have moved past the point of having a lot of very similar new experiences and struggles and perceiving them similarly, and are now having different experiences, figuring things out at our own paces, in our own ways, in our own contexts. I just hope we'll continue to find ways to share our various paths, because we can all learn something from each other.
Stick with me to the end, dear readers. I've enjoyed coming this far with you, and now, more than ever, I treasure your feedback and your thoughts about where you are and where I am now, and where we are headed in the years to come.
I'm used to retrospectively recognizing changes in my own perspective, philosophy, emotional maturity... But there are fewer times when I record sudden and dramatic paradigm shifts as they happen.
Recently I've noticed this happening with a kind of sweeping frequency, like my mindset is going through a total overhaul, piece by piece: first work, then money, then faith...and it's really bizarre. But I think the sum effect is a positive one.
The first domino fell when I read an article on Slate a few months ago, about how the Do What You Love/Love What You Do mantra is elitist, how it overvalues the role of "work" in people's lives and undervalues jobs that are looked down upon but entirely necessary to the functioning of society. As I read it I felt my opinion changing. For a typically stubborn person who likes to mull things over before accepting them, this was an entirely new experience. Maybe it's weird in general, for anyone.
Since then, I have done a lot of mulling over, and I don't reject the "mantra" as vehemently now as I did after my initial reading. But the way I approach work has definitely shifted since then, with some support from outside conversations about the impact of work on personal relationships, and my growing obsession with reading articles on LinkedIn (most of which are about work and work culture). I think there is some value to finding something we actually enjoy doing, and getting paid for it, but I'm recognizing the value in letting work be work, and leaving work at work when the day is over.
And maybe this perspective also soothes some of the shock many of us felt upon leaving college, feeling pushed to fulfill our greatest dreams and make a ton of money and "do anything," when suddenly none of that seemed so possible anymore. Particularly in the post-recession economy. Sometimes, we just have to get by, and find fulfillment outside of the nine-to-five (or serving shifts, or the school day... whatever keeps your boat afloat).
And then there's money. Something I have always worried about. For awhile I got caught up in the "making more" paradigm, the culture of spending more and being frustrated when whatever it was cost too much and everyone else seemed to be perfectly comfortable just shelling out.
I've been talking about it a lot, with my mom, my dad, and with J, and even with a financial life planner. I've been hearing that familiar "thou shalt not worry about earthly things" message in sermon after sermon for years (and even more often lately), frustrated by the Gospel's inability to understand how impossible it is, to just not worry about money, and clothes, and food, and my car. I've been jealously clicking through pictures of my friends who seem to be embracing their characteristic millennial broke-ness with proper millennial nonchalance.
And then, earlier this month, one of my friends posted an article: You Don't Have To Be Rich In Your 20s: How Much Money You Should Actually Be Making. And even though I didn't 100% agree with the article, or want the life it touted, something clicked for me: I make enough. I'm not broke. I eat enough. I do a lot of things I like to do. I have gas in my car. I'm even saving. And there's nothing productive in worrying about paying for a wedding, because the important thing is that I'm going to marry the guy I love, and I really think our hearts and minds are in the right place on that whole issue.
A lot of the topics I've wrestled on this blog are serious aspects of adult life and even, in some cases, of basic survival. Lately I find myself thinking back to an interview with the author of a fairly new parenting book. The book is called All Joy and No Fun, and her main point is basically (bluntly) that parenting can kinda make life suck, if you measure by the same standards of personal happiness that you use when you're single; but it's worth it, because it brings joy to your life. Joy and happiness are not necessarily the same thing.
I've latched onto this idea because there are a lot of things I have to do, and even things I choose to do, that don't always make me feel happy, per se, but in the long run they bring joy and contentment to my life. That's what I've found with work, and finances, and exercise, and even cooking and eating. But I'm determined to hit on long-term happiness, and living a joyful and beautiful life, and I think I'm doing that.
One of the reasons I'm bringing the blog to an end this year is that I'm starting to get a sense of divergence in the collective lives of my class. I write fewer posts that I expect will be relatable to a general majority of my reader base. I don't entirely expect that this post, in particular, will hit home for a whole bunch of people. I think we, as a class, have moved past the point of having a lot of very similar new experiences and struggles and perceiving them similarly, and are now having different experiences, figuring things out at our own paces, in our own ways, in our own contexts. I just hope we'll continue to find ways to share our various paths, because we can all learn something from each other.
Stick with me to the end, dear readers. I've enjoyed coming this far with you, and now, more than ever, I treasure your feedback and your thoughts about where you are and where I am now, and where we are headed in the years to come.
posted from Bloggeroid
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