Agent Plus Environment

I don’t understand people who don’t have ambition.

I was talking to a friend yesterday about my summer plans. I’m currently applying for a variety of internships and summer research programs. Another student happened to be listening in, and he said, I don’t want to do anything with my summer.

I can understand the desire for a lazy summer. I find free time (which I inevitably fill with my own projects and activities) just as appealing as the next person. But this guy, he’s a senior in college. What’s he going to do, bum off his parents when he graduates? That’ll look great on his resume:

Coach Potato – Hometown, A State. June 2010 – August 2010.
Sat on couch, wasted time on the internet, smoked pot, watched TV, ate chips, played video games.

But it doesn’t make sense to me for a person who wants to succeed and excel to not work towards that goal. Sure, maybe not everyone has high-flung aspirations. But everyone wants to do something. If you could be paid to be a professional coach potato, then absolutely, spend the summer doing that. But if you want to do research, if you want to be a lawyer, if you want to be a film director or work a high-salary job in the pharmaceutical industry… If you know what kind of experience you’ll need to get that dream job… why aren’t you looking for the opportunities that will let you achieve what you want to achieve?

It’s your life, do what you want

In the end, all that matters is whether you’re satisfied with how you’ve lived your life. Me, I know that the only person I’ll have to blame if I’m not satisfied is me. It doesn’t make sense to not put in time, effort, and thought.

Conclusion: The world is full of stupid, lazy, and boring people. If you don’t fall in one of those categories, I applaud you.

Afraid of losing ourselves

You and me, as conscious beings, we’re special. We don’t just move in the world, acting and reacting–we know we’re here. We have selves (illusory as they may be). We are conscious of our existence. We also know we’re not here forever.

“Every creature has fear,” said Jared. “Even the non-conscious ones.”

“No,” said Boutin. “Every creature has a survival instinct. It looks like fear but it’s not the same thing. Fear isn’t the desire to avoid pain or death. Fear is rooted in the knowledge that what you recognize as yourself can cease to exist. Fear is existential.”

— from The Ghost Brigades by John Scalzi

You and me, as conscious beings, we’re special. We can be afraid.

Scene: One of the last episodes of Series 2 of the new Doctor Who (the 10th Doctor)

Characters:

• Rose Tyler, companion of the Doctor as he travels through time and space
• Jackie Tyler, Rose’s mother

Conversation:

Jackie: Do you think you’ll ever settle down?
Rose: The Doctor never will so I can’t. I’ll just keep on traveling.
Jackie: And you’ll keep on changing. And in forty years time, fifty, there’ll be this woman, this strange woman, walking through the marketplace on some planet a billion miles from Earth. She’s not Rose Tyler. Not any more. She’s not even human.

Except that’s not how it works. If Rose changes, she won’t be the same Rose her mother remembers (and perhaps this is what her mother is referring to). If Rose changes, she’s still Rose. She’s just progressing, changing, adapting, learning, growing, pick your favorite synonym, it’s what everyone does as they progress through life. Are you the same person you were ten years ago?

I thought not.

Beautiful and good to eat

Deep down, maybe we all know we are, every one of us, a unique snowflake. But a lot of people, they don’t want it to be true. They want all the snowflakes to melt together into one big puddle. They want to be able to share their subjective view of the world with everyone else. They want to be able to look at a sunset and know that what it’s like for me to see the sunset is the same as what it’s like for you to see the sunset.

Hey, we all want things we can’t have. And in this case, science says no! Here’s a piece of wisdom from David Brin’s sci-fi novel Kiln People:

“We may use similar terms to describe a sunset. Our subjective worlds often correspond, correlate, and map onto each other. That makes cooperation and relationships possible, even complex civilization. Yet a person’s actual sensations and feelings remain forever unique. Because a brain isn’t a computer and neurons aren’t transistors.

It’s why telepathy can’t happen. We are, each of us, singular and forever alien…”

The amazing thing about people is that this fact doesn’t deter us. We keep trying to share our sensations and feelings with each other. As Virginia Woolf writes in her book Orlando:

For it is a curious fact that though human beings have such imperfect means of communication, that they can only say “good to eat” when they mean “beautiful” and the other way about, they will yet endure ridicule and misunderstanding rather than keep any experience to themselves.

To be known and understood

Maybe we’re just stubborn. Maybe we’re clinging to a shred of hope that science is wrong and someday, instead of just overlapping with pieces of each other, we’ll be able to know what it’s like to experience the sunset the way someone else does. Here’s a passage from a favorite book of mine, Man Walks Into a Room by Nicole Krauss:

“When you’re young, you think it’s going to be solved by love. But it never is. Being close—as close as you can get—to another person only makes clear the impassable distance between you. . . .

“But see, the incredible thing about people is that we forgot,” Ray continued. “Time passes and somehow the hope creeps back and sooner or later someone else comes along and we think this is the one. And the whole thing starts all over again. We got through our lives like that, and either we just accept the lesser relationship—it may not be total understanding, but it’s pretty good—or we keep trying for that perfect union, trying and failing, leaving behind us a trail of broken hearts, our own included. In the end, we die as alone as we were born, having struggled to understand others, to make ourselves understood, but having failed in what we once imagined was possible.”

“People really want that, what did you say, merging souls? Total union?” [Samson]

“Yes. Or at least they think they do. Mostly what they want, I think, is to feel known.”

What do you think? Is the ultimate human goal to feel known and understood? And if that’s the case, is the illusion of feeling known enough to compensate for never truly being able to share one’s experiences with anyone else?