Why can’t I be you?

Before reading this post, I advise you to drop any preconceived idea that this is just another rant about “poor me” asking for validation, but instead view it as an individual journey, where I try to be as open and honest with you – the reader, and some details are necessary in order for me to illustrate the journey of how this perspective formed, the best I can. 

 

 

I grew up in Bucharest, in a neighborhood at the edge of the city (let’s say it was not the best area to live in, but not the worst either), in a family of low-middle class workers, together with my sister. Most days we had food on the table, but I’ve also experienced days without it. School was not that great either. In those days, as a parent, you had to treat teachers with various presents during spring for Women’s Day or during the winter holidays (still applies today in some places). My parents didn’t have enough to give all the time, so apparently I was failing school in my first 4 years. I even got a 3 at Religion (yes, we had it taught in school). My teacher told my mother that I probably have autism as I can’t concentrate and focus on basic tasks and I should be institutionalized in a “special” school. It was my fault.

 

4th grade was over and summer was here. For me, summer breaks meant countryside work : digging, harvesting corn and grapes, going to pasture with the cow etc. I enjoyed my summer breaks because I was experiencing something that most city kids were deprived of: a deep, rooted connection with the land which I still carry today. Nature was your best friend as it gave you food, but it was also your enemy as your whole activity depended on her capricious attitude. If it was raining, I had to unplug the black and white TV because the house didn’t have a lighting rod. So you were stuck inside, reading or dreaming. That summer, I made a promise to myself that I would get better at school, study and learn as much as I can and work the land to help my family. This was the only chance I had to prove that I deserve to be part of a society that didn’t give a damn about me and ultimately, have a decent life.

 

 

 

The bell is ringing – Back to school, my chance to prove it. I was lucky that now my class master was a younger teacher, more open minded and less indoctrinated. He teached Civic Culture, it was one of those school subjects that no one cared about, but quite important to know about when you become an adult. At least that old dry prune of my ex-teacher was gone. No one will judge me now. I was naive, idealistic with a big heart, having dreams to change the world (still am and still do). 4 years went by, time for the final exam. I passed – I was the 3rd in my class based on the grades. My first teacher came to congratulate me, gave me a drawing I did in 1st year and told me to continue writing stories because I have a gift for it. Something had changed in her. I never heard good things from her in my first years. She was also smiling. My first reaction was to not react- Do we trust this person? Is it genuine? It is better to not react. I thanked her and walked out.

 

Green leaves, warm rain showers and strawberries are to be found in the market. Summer was here. Again, working the field. I had to give up professional handball after 4 years because I had to help out my family and I missed the latest session of training. The instructor yelled at me (at least she didn’t slap me- she used to do that too). It was my fault.

Then came highschool – I was pressed to enroll in a nearby highschool by my parents for safety and transportation reasons, and by my math teacher, as he believed that is the maximum of my potential. I went against their advice and I went to a highschool in the city centre, where the bourgeoisie-upper class teenagers were studying. The reality of the world I was living in was creeping inside my view. I remained idealistic and in a way, refusing to see the mess on which the society was built on. And I suffered. It was difficult to be the poorest, to not have money to take the bus and having to watch out to not be caught without a ticket, for having only 3 t-shirts to wear in a world that these people knew nothing about. Who can empathize with you? It was my fault.

 

Highschool is over, prom was coming. I had no money to attend, and as a result, my classmates raised money for me to attend it. I was ashamed, but grateful, and I thanked them. Not the typical Cinderella story, I got drunk and vomited that night. 

The big exam was coming up and I started working as a promoter, giving yogurt samples and chocolates in supermarkets. One day I was working, the next I was taking the exam. I passed it, without private classes. I was proud, a bit, but I had more concerning thoughts that were occupying my mind – What should I do next? I didn’t afford to go to University, I didn’t have time to study for the entrance exam and I didn’t know that I even had a chance to pass it. It was my fault.

 

I found a job in a newspaper ad column as a salesperson in a Levis jeans shop, just outside the city, near my home. I sold jeans for 2 years, I was bullied and harassed by my coworker who was fucking the manager and felt like she can rule the world. I am laughing inside as I am writing this.

 

I raised money and I’ve applied to the University of Bucharest for Communication and Public Relations as it was the most similar thing I can do, in order to make ads just like those I’ve seen on TV. I need to mention that the possibilities for career in those times were not that great, especially if you don’t have financial support and if you were a female. But you know, it was my fault.

 

I’ve worked full time as a salesperson for different clothing brands and studied for 3 years. Then I found a job as a secretary for an IT company, but as the years passed I realized that I am not made up for these jobs. I had the immense luck to meet a person there that was taking the shape of a father figure for me. He was one of the co-founders of the company and he always used to send me articles about design, advertising and new media. He thought as well that my place was not there and tried to push me further. I remember one of the articles, even now. Title: “Woman worked for 30 years as a secretary and in the end she became the CEO”. Now I’m laughing about it, but back then I really believed in it. And not necessarily because I wanted to become one, but because I thought that if she can do it, I can do whatever I want as well. I can prove to all the people that didn’t give a damn, that I can do it. It was my fault, but I can change it. If I work more.

I resigned from my job. I got my diploma and started learning Graphic Design and Photoshop. I tried applying for jobs in advertising agencies, but got rejected because I was an introvert and my clothes weren’t cool. It was my fault. I started working in a photo studio, a basement, perfect for people like me. I moved to another city. I started learning more software to get more skills. I moved to another country, to get a better job and to actually have a career prospect. I learned more software. I moved from photography to film. I changed jobs, companies, and cities again. I was not earning decent money, I was not excelling enough. It is my fault…

 

 

Crash…it’s just you on a cold, dusty floor, in silence. Some distant car horns in the distance. You feel no hunger, you feel no pain. A breeze of cold air in your ear and shivers. You’ve burned out. You remember the summer days, the fresh smell of land in your hands, the smell of the cow droppings, you feel the rain on your cheek. Why can’t I be you? The secretary who worked to become the CEO?

 

Years of isolation from society, followed with deep rest and meditation, chanting and walking in nature. This article came into my head as I found myself writing this. And I vaguely remember the story, but I know it was a big gap between those 30 years of labor as a secretary and the big jump to the CEO position. And you can notice this in all the successful stories that the media feeds you. They all started from nothing and after hard work- boom it happened. Not to say that some are true but let’s not lie to ourselves here. It’s the big lie. Excremento! I yelled.

 

https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/secretary-who-became-ceo-robert-cornish/

 

Where is the part where they mention how she actually did it? Like practical, real steps.“16 positions later at the same company — she became the CEO”

Oh thank you! Now you just have to sacrifice 32 years of your life so you can become one too. Very practical, very magna cum laude.

 

Why did Emma Stone win 2 Oscars at 35 years old? (Wikipedia source)

Stone was born on November 6, 1988, in Scottsdale, Arizona, to Jeffrey Charles Stone, the founder and CEO of a general-contracting company, and Krista Jean Stone (née Yeager), a homemaker. She lived on the grounds of the Camelback Inn resort from ages 12 to 15. She has a younger brother, Spencer.[8] Her paternal grandfather, Conrad Ostberg Sten, was from a Swedish family that anglicized their surname to “Stone”. She also has German, English, Scottish, and Irish ancestry.

Stone wanted to act since age four; she wanted a career in sketch comedy initially, but shifted her focus to musical theater, and took vocal lessons for several years. Her acting debut, at age 11, came in a stage production of The Wind in the Willows, playing Otter. Stone was homeschooled for two years, during which time she appeared in 16 productions at Phoenix’s Valley Youth Theatre—including The Princess and the Pea, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat—and performed with the theater’s improvisational comedy troupe. Around this time, she traveled to Los Angeles and auditioned unsuccessfully for a role on Nickelodeon‘s All That. Her parents later sent her for private acting lessons with a local acting coach, who had worked at the William Morris Agency in the 1970s.

No, I am not invalidating her skills and yes, she is a good actress.

 

 

You see where I am going with this? It’s the same idea circling the world since the Enlightenment era – that it’s your own free will that can create all this. And if you do not succeed, it’s nothing but your fault. Call it capitalistic mentality, or the agent of free will.

Back in the Enlightenment era, this train of thought served a socio-political purpose, as the conflict between the freshly emerging field of science and religion grew. By separating the spirit from the mind, scientists could operate freely without being burned down at the stake. Yes, just like witches. Both parties got a half of you where they can operate, without intersecting with each other. Like 2 kids, pulling a toy by each leg. Materialism became a good weapon – you see it, you feel it, you taste it (the sweat of your brow).

Then the industrial revolution happened. Who gets the upper hand? The machine. Why? You see it, you feel it, you hear it etc. This obviously had an impact on all intellectual elites, who helped consolidate the idea that a physical realm exists separate from the psyche. By the end of the 19th century, this idea was so ingrained into the human psyche, that everyone forgot that it started as a socio-political movement. The pay-off of this was that there was no consciousness after death. It’s just what you see, what you feel, what you hear… and that is all. Liberation! Freedom from the church, freedom from hell, freedom from all this notion. Science, the new God! Physicalism annihilated consciousness. No such thing! Positivism and behaviorism hit the 20th century to build more on this idea. It’s the elite! They must know more than me, a peasant lower class citizen. I don’t have time to think, I work so I have to trust the elites because they clearly know more than I do. They went to the big University, they have the facts, the grade, the paper, the power, the money. They have the facts, they see it, they hear it. Until Thomas Nagel published “What is it like to be a bat?” in 1974 to sow little thoughts of confusion into the mind. 

 

 

The big problem of consciousness- Does free will exist? Of course it does, because if I say no, that means that all my status and work I have invested in getting here doesn’t mean anything. It’s the lullaby we hear in our ears to tell us that we are worth it, because we’ve worked for it. The secretary did it, so why don’t you? Why? Because you are not capable, I am. Emma Stone did it. Why? Because it is your fault that you can not afford private lessons and the cost of living in LA. We forget about contexts, we forget about the period of time a person is born in, about their social-economic background, about their life experiences, about genetics, from the food that we ingest, from our first interactions with other people since we are born and even before that. We just applaud the success, we admire it, we feed on it. We give our support to “winners” and not to those who really need it. Like it’s a contest, a game of wins and losses. We do this even with ourselves. It is so ingrained in the human brain that it needs time to get away. You might be ok with this thought in your solitude but as soon as you go out into the world, you see it everywhere. At the workplace, on social media, in your family, in your friends, in yourself. 

 

Of course there are Sapolsky, Bernardo Kastrup, Rupert Spira, Hoffman and many others who talk about the inexistence of the free will agent. Or at least to sugarcoat it a little bit, it is about the lesser power of free will in our decision making and actions. As soon as information begins to be available to more people and not just elites, maybe in time we can begin to reconsider things and how we operate. I was blamed for being a communist and for hating the rich. I believe that you, reader, can have the discernment to think more than this. Things are not black and white and will never be.

 

With all of this said, it is not to split people between good or bad, nor to invalidate your progress. It is about humbling oneself, to reinforce the spirit of equality, to have empathy towards those that are less fortunate and to break the chains of materialistic thoughts that only physicality exists.There is much to learn and much to heal and everyday we can challenge our minds to see things differently and to break patterns of thought. 

 

I wrote this with the idea in mind that, like me, there are many others and when they fall asleep the little voice says: “It is my fault”.

 

 

I leave you with a jingle.