Little Boxes

It's mildly amusing when people take it upon themselves to prescribe you a path to a life well lived. Doubly so when people don't have their own sh*t together. As I receive the sermon I've heard a million times – mostly from an older, "wiser" generation but also from people with a soft-corner for orthodoxy – I try not to be disrespectful or burst out laughing as this song plays in my head.

It's interesting how this works and how "grass is greener" is in play here. Everyone agrees life is hard. And yet, they disagree on the best way to get through it....as if there were a single best way you could prescribe to every single human being.

One camp is convinced the orthodox way, with minor tweaks, works best. This camp won't shy away from giving you a great long speech on why they're right. They have the numbers to back them up too. They claim they are happier, and anyone who isn't living like they are, is missing out on pure bliss. They see they world as a rat-race with other people slaving their lives away chasing money and fame, while they focus on higher ideals of family and companionship.

And the people in the houses
All went to the university
Where they were put in boxes
And they came out all the same

And there's doctors and lawyers
And business executives
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same

From an outsider's perspective though, their lives are unoriginal and just as depressing. And so, there also exists a tiny camp that doesn't believe in following the latter half of the script, which goes something like...

Boys go into business
And marry and raise a family
In boxes made of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same

They all play on the golf course
And drink their martinis dry
And they all have pretty children
And the children go to school

And the children go to summer camp
And then to the university
Where they are put in boxes
And they come out all the same

"I don't get how people dedicate their whole lives to their workplace", said a friend. I do get it. Work is just another thing to keep you occupied, really. Work can give you pleasure as well as a sense of satisfaction. Provided your work is your passion, try working your ass off until 4AM when you're unable to keep your eyes open and you stumble upon a solution to your issue. The lights come on again. Life makes sense again.

There's a pink one and a green one
And a blue one and a yellow one
And they're all made out of ticky tacky
And they all look just the same

It's unfortunate that one path is viewed as inferior over the other, but I guess that's just a matter of time and maturity. Very few people have the capacity to absorb different perspectives.

For me, this song is as scary as the babies-harvested-for-energy scene in The Matrix. It's the most depressing song highlighting the state of life lived by billions and billions of people without giving "the script" a second thought.