splendid

The first time I heard about "American Splendor" was when my older brother rented the dvd. I picked up the case and I scowled at it. I couldn't see how a movie about a depressing underground comic writer could possibly keep my socially floundering brother from sliding closer to his impending lackluster life. That was all I wanted for him then. I wanted him to be happy and happy with other people. Harvey Pekar, the focus of "American Splendor" did not seem to be the sort of role model I was hoping my older brother would choose. I also knew nothing abou underground comics and figured they must be more akin to porn than anything else and my disdain was sealed.

My brother would often watch movies alone in the basement in the dark. At the time I wasn't too hurt he never invited me but thinking about it now it really would have been nice just to be asked. Eventually his lone movie watching turned into lone beer drinking in the dark. My brother continually took on Harvey's likeness as he drooped and sagged inside and out. I knew nothing about the movie or the man but I hated them both. In all honesty, I really thought this movie was another nail in my brother's coffin. He would never do anything with his intelligence or creativity if he idolized twice-divorced file clerks with gnarled teeth, jowels, a large stomach and man boobs.

A couple years ago my friend Jeff showed me his comics collection and let me borrow all of the graphic novels he had by Jeffery Brown and one called "Blankets" by Craig Thompson. These autobiographical revelations made comics more important to me than they were even when I was an avid collector as a child. Ever since I have been enamored with the underground comic "scene." Now that I knew about this world it was inevitable that I would come across Harvey Pekar. "American Splendor" was an tremendous acheivement in comics because it was crass, depressing, coarse and true. When I learned about all this I felt a wave of embarrassment because I knew I had shunned something that could have opened up a glorious new world of art that I had to wait several years to come into.

Perhaps I was not ready. I was very sunny as a high schooler and I wasn't quite into irony.

I watched the movie tonight. I cannot remember the last time I have felt so inspired. Seek out the comics and also the movie. Could change your perspective if you let it. I am glad I saw it so young.

brandonpiercegeary

a dream upon waking

I wish to extend the content of my last entry. I was considering the ways in which I view my job in contrast to the prattling Kinko's employee or my crass supervisor. I think we all see our job as just that - a task to be done. I suppose the biggest departure in our understanding of our job is our duty. What is our relationship to our occupation as compared to our relationship to everything else in our life?

It seems to me that during my parents' and their parents' lives a person's job was mere occupation. The notion of a calling in regard to work was reserved for missionaries, families with a long history of doctors or lawyers, or people involved in a family business. A person had a job and worked because that was what one did. There was no room for personal ambition or fulfilment of desire because the practicum of the day-in-day-out had such a bloated importance. And I use the word bloated in the most reverent of manners.

My brother-in-law recently wrote about a lady who wrote a book about young people's collective and individual narcissistic entitlement frenzy especially as it relates to assumptions concerning degrees and subsequent careers. I can attest to the clear idealism that pervades the upper-middle class young Americans these days. I am just as guilty of the most disgustingly under-deserved self-important visions of grandeur as the next literate, laptop equipped youngster. And like the others I usually don't have the maturation of mind to understand it was all but a dream. Most white kids my age in America have it pretty good. There is great luxury in the very visible safety nets we hedge all of our bets on. In most cases our parents or our ruddy good looks and cleverness (or a strange combination of the two) will be our bail out. We can't lose.

I think it must also be stated that the rules and therefore the expectations have changed in the decades since our mommies and daddies were home bacon bringers. The new young professional is the upwardly mobile standard and an aspiration that seems crucial to all of us who not only want to take home a paycheck but also dignity. It does not feel like enough to come home around five thirty in the afternoon with head held high because a full-day's work was put in at the ol' office. It does not feel like enough because of what I was perplexed about in my last entry. What is a full-day's work anymore? When am I allowed to be satisfied? A person is confronted with the option of being their job or being very little. Many of my friends have jobs and have "side projects." These appear to be hobbies but a slightly closer look reveals them to be entreprenurial strivings. Small businesses are the new quilting bees. These are the ways we get involved with our neighbors and invest in our community. And not to mention move on that hope that the thing we love to do may be the thing we make big bucks doing. It seems this is the only way to get gratification from one's job and in this economy to just get by. I believe that is also why so many people are going to work for non-profits. Perhaps it is to prove that you can do what you love without being motivated by money alone (although CEO's of most non-profits make a pretty fantastic living).

We are a disappointed and disappointing people. Because we choose this pursuit of a "birthright as means of job satisfaction." As the middle class it sure seems as though that is what we are charged with seeking out - that sole occupation we can fill. We will know it when we see it, nay feel it. It is supposed to seek me out, I think. It is actually difficult to say. I know I may not have a place in the sun but I certainly have one out there somewhere. A progressive architecture firm dying for my copy writing skills. That must be it.

I think it is good that we have high expectations from within and without. Hopefully the dream lasts long enough so that when we fail we still have enough hope juice to strive towards the next impossibility.

brandonpiercegeary