Chrisonomicon

Saturday, September 30, 2000

My mind is encumbered by the week's weight, homework, company re-org, and social frustration. Maybe it's the weight of simply becoming an adult—a transition that seemed would come so naturally only a few years ago. Now I'm at a pinnacle moment in my life where I feel a decision should be made about what I want my life to represent and what I want to achieve. I have everything I need: a budding career, money, a steady relationship, a good education, and possibilities. God, the possibilities.

I first picked up an issue of AdBusters last summer, while visiting Andrea. Not many drastic changes occur in my life, but looking back, I realize that I was a changed person the minute I picked up that magazine. I have since subscribed and acquired every back-issue. I still haven't figured out whether I like the magazine or not. I want to agree with their stance on anti-consumerism, anti-globalism, and anti-corporatism. I am the antithesis of everything the magazine represents, however. I am swiftly becoming a corporate pawn. I own a fuel-inefficent SUV. I shop the Gap and support Phillip Morris subsidaries such as Kraft and Nabisco. I am a stout Democrat. I choose plastic at the grocery store and don't recycle.

Sure, it's great that I realize these things and think about them and their effects on society and the environment, but I see myself headed down a spiral that I may not be able to stop once I'm in. Will I be able to appreciate the large quantities of money I make or grow accustomed and callous to a cushy and wasteful lifestyle? Will I be able to stop my inbred materialism before it gets the better of me?

Questions such as this put me in an ackward position. On one hand, I want to do the right thing for the environment and society by leaving my materialist lifestyle behind and donating my time and money towards reform and peace movements. On the other hand, I want to succeed in our society and have an easy life. At this point, I feel I could choose either and be relatively suited for success.

Home greets me with open arms and I sulk into my bedroom where I throw myself onto a large, expensive bed with a down comforter. My coat is left on my Pier One nightstand. Blindly, I fumble for the remote and switch on my Sony television, flipping through a number of the 500 channels I receive via satellite. I close my eyes. I need to escape.