Summertime Sadness, Wintertime Woes

“Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgiastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no matter--tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther.... And one fine morning-- So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.”

The point of this scene is to illustrate an erratic, near-psychotic break man who's spent his life chasing a past that never existed and never could have.  As logical, well-adjusted readers, we are smarter than Jay Gatsby because we, like Nick Carroway, know you can never repeat the past.  Right? But, what if that's not it.  I mean, deep down, we all believe in the green light just as much as Gatsby, don't we?  Regardless of our goals, be it fixing a past mistake, becoming someone we hope to be, or fulfilling a commitment we're only mostly sure we can fulfill, we have ideas of what tomorrow SHOULD be like.  It's absolutely impossible to go to bed in a world where you can't believe you'll achieve more tomorrow than you did today.  I might have blamed my generation if it weren't for Jay's validation, but the hardest part of life is getting yourself up and doing it.

I'm sure I don't need to spell out why Facebook or a binge Netflix marathon of Mad Men is so much better than sitting down at a desk to do work.  Aside from the obvious (because Jon Hamm is hot), there is that constant devil-voice whispering "if you don't bother, you definitely can't fail!"  The future is horrifying, basically.  Our whole lives we've been told to "grow up" and "figure out who [we] are," but what adult is grown up and knows who he is?  Am I still just too young?  I don't know about that, but I can say for sure, that no matter what the occasion, there is always something more enticing than putting myself out on that page some days.

Lately, I've been hearing the words, "this cold weather is really putting me in an off-mood.  I just don't feel inspired to write."  I can't help but retrospectively criticize this excuse.  Am I in an off-mood?  Sure.  Is cold weather the sleep potion to my Romeo-and-Juliet-live-happily-ever-after?  Absolutely.  Is that a good enough excuse to lose myself in cyberspace until the "real" world demands I make an appearance somewhere? Doubt it.  The fact is, that I can make excuses all day, every day, no matter what the weather.  

I suppose the issue here, as it tends to be with me, comes down to time.  Just like Gatsby, we beat on against the current - ceaselessly searching for the past and the past of our future.  We all want to become someone someday, and committing to that idea out loud represents a problem we may never be able to fulfill, unless, "of course we can [repeat the past]" as Gatsby declares with absolute conviction.  Of course we can.