So the other half of Team Black Swan had some interesting things to say about their voyage and how they got to where they are now. The notion that they wound up on what can charitably be thought of as a “deep cover embed” because it was the path of least resistance – well, it rings absolutely true. In my case, I went where the one job offer was after the great grad-school washout – and even if it meant moving to Washington DC (or thereabouts), I didn’t have anywhere else to go, so I went. Even moving to Silicon Valley – well sure, I didn’t have a job, but I had money in the bank, a fiancee who already had a job, a guaranteed room at her folks’ house for as long as we needed it, and the firm conviction that sticking around would finish up with me in either Lorton or St Elizabeth’s. So going west wasn’t exactly a high-risk move, from a standpoint low on the Maslow hierarchy.
I guess all that is to say that speaking as a textbook Enneagram 6, I see absolutely nothing wrong in the logic of choosing the devil you know. Sure, the Ancestral Lands have their own problems, which are legion and show no sign of subsiding (when 2/3 of the population of the Ancestral Lands doesn’t firmly believe the President of the United States is an American citizen, they have problems) but part of growing up Black Swan is developing the skill set needed to survive in such an environment. The capstone of that skill set, of course, being the ability to make a sufficiently spectacular escape when the time comes.
2.0 also nails something I have thought about myself, and I quote: “it sometimes gets tiresome to be defined by things you most certainly are not. Having the chance to define yourself based on things that you are and things that you want to be – that’s where the action is.” I’m still working on that bit…especially the last bit, because the question of “where do you want to be in your life at 40?” is taking on what the Smashing Pumpkins called “the resolute urgency of now.” And having just dated myself horribly, I will wrap it for the night.
Except to reaffirm that yes, pimento cheese wears a helmet.
I think we’re always defining ourselves by what we aren’t – and I think to some degree it’s inescapable – but… my God… if that were a drinking game here I’d be missing a lot of work.
Still, on rare occasions it’s fun to be around these parts and demonstrate that only having one car, recycling, not having kids, having friends who happen to be gay, not hunting or fishing, etc. doesn’t automatically make me 100% No Fun and Out to Eat Your Soul in the Name of the Socialist State (though that would make an excellent T-shirt).
Not that I don’t look forward to the next incarnation of The Spectacular Escape… I just have more of a sense that I’ll be running toward something instead of away from it.