Time On

Vacations might as well be the enemy.

If you really think about a vacation, it's a terrible thing. It's something we relish, worship, long for. This small amount of time that get to have away from our lives and either enjoy it idly or actively. There are two types of vacationers. Those that plan to go somewhere and do something - people with a schedule and a list of to-dos. And those that want to do nothing at all. They may go somewhere, but they'll be napping under an umbrella somewhere, thank you very much. The two types have one thing in common, though.

They're both being duped.

Vacations shouldn't be longed-for. They should hated and despised for what they really are - medicine for the disease of life. Instead of treating the virus, we seek to numb our minds from it, taking a week off like we'd take any other pill that we hope can cure whatever ails us. The problem is that it won't. There is no cure for a bad life except to cut out the bad parts. You can take this morally (the bad life being the opposite of the goal of ethics) or humanely (the bad life is the torture of the 9-5 world and must be ended).

The vacation gives us just enough adventure, that we don't long for it in our daily lives. Instead of worshiping at the altar of adventure (just using a metaphor, not blaspheming) we lay down offerings to the god of the three-day weekend. In an ideal world, every day would be the weekend.

Of course this isn't feasible for a society to run itself. We need workers. Cogs. But who says you have to be one of them? Does it seem unfair to everyone else? Sure, but they could free themselves, too, if they wanted to. It just takes a little courage.

Are you tired after the day in that unfulfilled sort of way? There's nothing wrong with a 9-5 office job if it's your passion. I basically solve puzzles all day - and often I come home exhausted from accomplishment. I feel a sense of intellectual pride. My frustration is a healthy one and my triumph is hard-fought and appreciated. If you come home exhausted, but unfulfilled, what was it worth? I'm talking about that feeling you get after a serious workout or after finishing a 30-page exegeses on Augustine's Call for Chastity. You're sweating, but you've won. That ache in your muscles tells you you've done something greater, pushed yourself beyond a limit. You joke that you'll never "do that again!", but you will. Because it feels great to feel that exhaustion.

If your exhaustion is just enough to carry you to the sofa to watch reruns of Everybody Loves Raymond (and who doesn't?), you're doing something wrong. And I'd wager my salary that you long achingly for that vacation time.

If you're doing it right, you shouldn't have to have a vacation. Your exhaustion should energize you. It's a shame at how difficult living that life can be - obviously money is the root of the problem - but we should be hunting that life down with full force. Never complacent. Never resting until we can move on to doing what we are passionate about. I mean, what real excuse do we have for not doing what we love? If that's the big cosmic joke, if that's the question that they ask at the end of life - Why didn't you do what you loved? - what would your answer be? Would any answer suffice?

I would hope not. Enjoy your three-day weekend.