To My Youngers,
I've been reading F. Scott Fitzgerald lately; first The Great Gatsby and now Tender is the Night, (with a few of Hemmingway's short stories thrown in for good measure) and I am struck by both their incredible readability and their effectiveness in evoking a kinship with 'today'. The vigor and the boredom of the 20s jet set, their sense of irony and purposelessness, the way they consume environments (and people) and their general contemptedness at life (forever at odds with a determination to enjoy themselves)... it seems like we have little in common with that era, with the feeling of financial well being (though somehow a dollar nineteen for gas seems little to pay, as we do so with comparatively low levels of unease) the receding end of a war (though the twin tower collapse is finally becoming a memory of something that 'once happened') the hope and promise of the future (if we could only settle on a future we can hold hope and promise for)... On the surface all so.... different? No... Wait.... But it all sound so familiar...
I have heard an inordinate number of people utter the phrase "I don't even know what a hipster is!" while being completely surrounded by them and "I hate hipsters!" while very clearly being a prime model of the specimen. The term, so often discussed, used, and almost thrown away these days is one that is widely misunderstood and wrongly thought to be a modern invention. Many trace its roots back to the 1940s, but reading Fitzgerald and Hemingway, I find it difficult (if not impossible) to not see roots reaching back at least to the 20s if not much, much, father... Though the style (the 'look') has definitely evolved, the overarching themes of ironic-world-interaction, financial stability, and a general malaise, remain consistent throughout time. So many see the world as a trying place, wishing for the golden age of the past, the determination and directness of their forebears and the simpler times when living well meant having lots of money and lots of places to spend it. I don't think a lot of people would identify our time with one of financial stability, an issue that seems to be at odds with our current world state, but the effects of both financial situations are strikingly similar.
With all of the financial crises around the world (Greece, Italy, the U.S... and sure only to spread), those of us who are not feeling the real crush of the possibly inevitable collapse of capitalism have unconsciously taken on many of the qualities and outlooks of Fitzgerald's doomed (albeit rich) heroes and heroines... We stumble through life at breakneck speed, filling our days with activities, holding our futures at bay, pushing back the endless decision making, all the while sailing closer and closer to the inevitable zero hour, when we will come face to face with our lives.
But what else are we to do? As Zach Braff so perfectly depicted in Garden State, we are a generation of children looking for Home, trying to find our way in a world we were told could offer us anything, which we mistakenly interpreted as being able to offer us everything. We struggle with choices, expecting to be in possession of endless chances to change our minds, yet always seeming to be surprised when we realize that we don't know what we want.
Perhaps the strangest part of all of this is that we seem to have many such moments, many such epiphanies of "I've got to finally decide on something! I've got to finally choose a path, fix things! And so I choose this!" only to be faced with the exact same feelings, the same situation mere weeks, months, or years later.
Perhaps it is a mark of growing older and wiser when one finally realizes that the constant decision making, the never ending river of necessary choices is the actual way of life. That the former idea of 'making it,' 'being someone,' 'having it all figured out' were mere Hollywood constructions, painted by figures of the past who were only fooling themselves into accepting their truthfulness.
Reading Fitzgerald, Hemmingway, or Joseph Heller (heck even Homer, Dickens or Charlotte Bronte!) it seems pretty clear that we've never really known what we're doing, that people have always been sucked in by the idea that there is a specific goal in life only to be jarred, disappointed, and ultimately redirected by the realization that there is no destination, only a journey full of endless choices...
And so I leave you with this: instead of being morose, ironic, and resentful towards the endless changeability of the seas of life, build yourself a homey raft, fill it with friends, and cozy up to the idea of residing on the styrofoam life rings almost as often as on the raft itself. Also embrace cheesy metaphors, they make everything better.
-E
If, like many, you find the term hipster confusing, check out this article by Zana Faulker, just one of many excellent articles on hipsterdom (and its roots) as presented by the interwebs... I challenge you to not see hipsters throughout history, an omnipresent force of modern society.
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