"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation. What is called resignation is confirmed desperation. From the desperate city you go into the desperate country, and have to console yourself with the bravery of minks and muskrats. A stereotyped but unconscious despair is concealed even under what are called the games and amusements of mankind. There is no play in them, for this comes after work. But it is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.." ― Henry David Thoreau, Civil Disobedience and Other Essays
"Ironing boards are a classic example of something I find horrible about modern society: the excitementation, for want of a better word, of mundane things. Funny ironing board covers - I hate them." - Daniel Radcliffe
It was painfully true. By all accounts, he lived an extremely mundane life. Even the thought of being mundane was perfectly mundane. No excitement. No brilliant accomplishments. At times he felt like his whole purpose was to redefine the concept of "pedestrian-ism", as if making up words to describe his plight would somehow help.
Up at 7 AM. Shower, teeth, hair gel, razor, coffee, meds (because he was now over 40 and had somehow fallen victim to genetic deficiencies like hypertension, among others). Out the door by 7:40. Drive to work. Arrival times varied, which, in fact, was the highlight of his day. What simpleton would occupy the road in front of him today, going 10 miles slower than the speed limit, backing up traffic? What maniac would fly by in a fit of rage, having lost their patience to the mind numbing monotony of the daily commute? Fascinating.
He walked the halls at work day in and day out, wondering if this was the be all and end all of his life. Watching those fresh faces just out of college, filled with all the certainty and optimism of being 20-something. It was like watching an advertisement for the particular style of relentless trendiness so often embodied by the "hipsters". Buy a beanie, wear a carefully scuffed pair of Chuck Taylors with rolled up chinos, don an odd colored V-Neck sweater over an intentionally obscure t-shirt lauding the benefits of vegan living, and you too could live the hipster dream.
The sad truth was that his life had slowly passed him by. He had served in the Army for a quarter of a century. He had performed adequately, and managed not to get himself killed in Iraq or Afghanistan, much to the disappointment of his ex-wife. She would much rather have had a fat insurance check than the actual husband return from war. After finding a younger and better version who had the added benefit of not being gone for years on end, she efficiently dispatched him in divorce court, securing a hefty child support sum every month.
An additional failed marriage later (apparently he had driven this one to drink and she had lost her mind in a Xanex and alcohol induced fury one evening which ended in an arrest for domestic assault), and he had lost all faith in any social institution even remotely resembling matrimony.
An weekly visit from his son (mostly because the laundry facilities were much better than his apartment or his mother's) and a failed relationship with his daughter (who had chosen her mother over him) meant that he spent most of his time alone.
Thanksgivings and Christmases spent on the couch, finding whatever solace he could in a bottle of wine and a pizza while he watched football (thank God for the NFL) and that was it. The American Dream. Realized.
All the while, in the back of his mind, his thoughts wandered to the philosophical. Was this it? Was he truly condemned to lead a life of quiet desperation? Was life destined to be this mundane for the rest of his days?
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