December 11, 2017•304 words
Somehow, throughout years of conscious self-improvement, I may have gotten stupider. Don’t get me wrong—I may have gained some wisdom. I may have learned some strategies and tactics. I may have upped my technical talent. I may have learned a bit more about what I want and how to go about getting it.
But I’m no more able to drive this vehicle than I ever have been. In fact, while I have been collecting all these in-game tokens to improve my abilities, my driving has gotten worse and worse. I swerve constantly and recklessly. Sometimes I’ll even destroy the bumpers that were built to keep me in place. Other times I’ll fall asleep right at the helm of the wheel. And, when it’s really cold, my car doesn’t even start up.
While I have learned so much about the outside world, I am no better a driver than I ever was. I struggle with daily life now the same way I always have. Subtly, but profoundly and consistently. Years and years of conscious efforts at self-improvement and self-actualization have yielded the likes of a mad man driving intensely and uttering too many unintelligible epigrams while trying to keep up with the road’s curves and ends.
We spend so much time supping up our vehicles, preparing them for every climate and environment, but forget ultimately that there’s no predicting the curvature of these roads. A man with a beaten-up car can make it through the winding challenges of life with more ease than so-called navigation experts, if he drives humbly.
Nonetheless, I am amused by my own stupidity. I find it cute, how hard I try but ultimately what little control I have. We spend so much time optimizing our vehicles that we forget to enjoy the ride. There’s some fantastic scenery along the way.