It’s seven o'clock Bishkek time and I am thinking about depression. I live in a country, where I struggle with the language every day, I need to sleep practically outside, drinking water makes my belly and now that the heat
In fact I have been reasonably happy the past weeks.
Recently, I have exceeded all my own goals. Some of those were rather intimidating, even scary, some the result of long arduous work, but most very simple things for man kind, yet meaningful for me. After a month of trying, I found the perfect amount of coffee crumbs to be added in my Turkish pot to produce just the kind of coffee I like with a frothy créma on top; I shopped at the bazar using only Russian language; and I finally got over a mental threshold and shoulder-pressed with more than 50kg. The small successes, I think, paved the road and mind for taking on the more intimidating goals.
I was told Abu Dhabi is a very safe place to live. In fact so safe, that there is a guard standing on the beach after sunset to see that nobody swims. This is unfortunate, of course, as night time is the only time when one can enter the water bare-footed without burning the feet to a crisp on the hot sand. Most of the year it is too warm to go outside the air-conditioned city. So, the city has built department stores, museums, cinemas and brags with a variety of different restaurant, where people can kill time. All the activities are enjoyed under the surveillance of the state. Access to media is naturally limited not to get carried away with thoughts of missing something.The people working in the ant hive make a lot of money, which attracts them to stay. The funny thing about it is, that even when one ticked all the activity boxes available, it feels something is missing. Anxiousness sets in. Prozac is administered to keep the smiles people’s face.
The city fathers have read their Orwell. To control: limit information and administer a drug to vent it out.
In Europe it is not very safe. If I leave my bike unlocked against a lamp post in Helsinki it is likely that it will not be there 10 minutes later. My insurance company warned me that my travel insurance would not cover if I left the tarmac and ventured into woods without a professional guide. Even with the guide I shouldn’t stay longer than 2 days. They couldn’t tell me when exactly I am in the woods. Case by case consideration is applied. The bottom-line is that I am not to be trusted to take care of my safety outside the surveillance. Cooking is best to be left for professionals. Experts are interviewed in newspapers on how much water consumption an individual needs. Soon we don’t have gas to warm up our houses. Alcohol needs to be equipped with safety boxes to fend-off shop-lifters.
It kind of sucks, but as long as we have electricity to charge our phones and keep us in the loop how much worse it is elsewhere, it’s kind of alright.
At the end of the day, I managed to tick all the activity boxes and have a silent moment for all those who suffer more, but something feels is missing. Anxiousness about the knowledge of this settles in.
But luckily, as prof. Isometsä from the University of Helsinki told, “our culture is changing and the threshold for seeking help for mental problems has become lower”. There is some irony hidden in that cultural change. To pass the responsibility to the individual, he tells people to seek help before it gets severe. Only you can’t get that help when you wanna scream! Prozac and “So-Me” are administered to vent it out.
The city fathers have read their Huxley. To control: information overload keeps the individual busy and reminds him on shaming himself for others suffer even more.
In either place, it is difficult to set personalized goals, not to speak of exceeding them.
I wonder if there is a difference with meeting your set expectations in every-day life and exceeding your own? Back home, somebody else usually sets the expectations for me. Bills need to be paid, social media updated, boss satisfied, girlfriends, boyfriends, children and the rest.
At the end of the day, if I am a good boy, I managed to give something for everyone.
The fridge at my hostel has a magnet that says "today I am going to satisfy just one person. I choose me".
I think today I am going to choose myself again. I’ve set my targets. I won’t even say what they are, since they have no social media value. That’s also why I won’t undermine them by posting a picture of a perfect café créma. Doing that would set a new target for it: receive likes. But I don’t know how many is enough for such a feat, so I probably wouldn’t be satisfied with the result. That undermines the whole accomplishment. So, I’ll keep it to myself.
The recognition I can expect to receive from my society apparently happens as a collateral. The people around me say “that guy’s all smiles”, “he walks like a boss”. The boys at the gym come to shake my hand and we all place our palms on our chests upon greeting to show respect for the other.
This is when I know I’ve accidentally exceeded even the society-set expectations, while simply chasing my own petty targets.
With all this I feel I’ve become more liberated from the need to be pampered by others or by the society. I consider that I have vacated that time now for my close-ones to dedicate it how they see fit. So, whatcha gonna do about it?
Thank you, excuse me and good-bye!
- Half-assed chef
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