The Right Way

In the summer of 2016, I switched my major from aerospace engineering to architecture. This was at orientation before my first year at TTU when I could still fit in all the free shirts they gave us. Aerospace had always sounded right—I enjoyed math and almost landed a plane once in Microsoft Flight Simulator! Thinking about it, however, I didn’t know if aerospace engineering would lead to a fulfilling life.

Even though I knew nothing about architecture, I had some experience with set-building in high school theatre. I knew architects were somewhat dignified, being somewhere below engineers and somewhere above artists in society’s eyes. That was enough to sell it to my parents, so I switched. But I always felt like I’d somewhat let people down for not being what they expected me to be.

Fast-forward four years and many nights sleeping in utility closets, life developed many of my current opinions on success. I memorized all the cliches by heart, like “life is what you make of it” and “don’t settle.” It wasn’t until I graduated, however, that I was confronted with the daunting idea that life is… pointless.

I don’t mean this in a dreary Russian author sort-of-way, but in an Everything Everywhere All at Once sort-of-way. If you haven’t seen the film, I can attest it still holds up after four viewings! One of the movie’s big messages is that life is pointless, but that doesn’t make your life small. It means you have every direction to grow in.

One of the more gut-wrenching scenes from A24’s film

I think many of us find structure in our relationships, institutions, and careers when life feels pointless. This is completely understandable; these are the things that give our life a sense narrative, helping us go from our “unemployed nearly homeless” era to our “got-the-job coming of age” era. I partially blame movies and Tumblr for making us feel like our lives need to be so aesthetic.

In any case, these structures are safe but of course don’t appeal to all people. I happen to be one of those people, deliberately making it very hard for life to feel like it’s happening. I believe that to my parents’ deficit, being raised in a military family made me love traveling. I love transformation, and I love change. However, these ideals do not typically hold in a world akin to stability.

If you’re anything like me you have a hard time settling, and it’s made it difficult for you to feel satisfied. Personally, I don’t feel I’d be satisfied with a normal architecture life. Many that I’ve spoken to feel the same way—normal life sucks and you should do what makes you happy. While this is what I believe, it almost always comes with the burden of judgement from family, friends, and coworkers. From my own experience, I can’t count the number of times I’ve felt judged for being interested in volunteerism as the practice is wildly unprofitable.

Though it’s difficult to not live the right way (he said the thing!), I think I stopped caring when I realized how unimportant most of what we do is.

Here’s a little exercise for you. Think of how many companies there are. Each company has their own mission, objectives, and goals. Then, consider how each of those companies has their own managers, staff, and employees. Each employee has their own life, relationships, and dreams. It’s a bit daunting, right? Though this makes it sound like I just went outside for the first time, this world is bigger than any of us can even imagine. How could 7.7 billion people possibly have their own narratives?

How could we ever expect our lives to be so special when there are people doing everything, everywhere, all at once?

Coming to terms with my own insignificance was initially petrifying but taught me that I really don’t owe anything to anyone. I don’t have to live in Texas my whole life. I don’t have to build a car-reliant life. I don’t have to be architect my grandma thinks I am (yes, she made me sign a painting as "Jonah Remigio, Architect”).

How can you not feel small in a world this big?

Life rarely makes sense, and nothing is ever straightforward. Heck, just look at human history for that. Those basic diagrams of human migration are incredibly misleading—if we actually traced out human settlement, migration, and resettlement, it’d look like I dropped a basket of yarn on a map. I’d like us to take inspiration from our blood-thirsty, planet-conquering ancestors by being less mindful of others. Exploring new areas and making unlikely connections is how we grew as a species, and it’s how we’ll grow as a society. Don’t get me wrong, there’s merit in safety. A ship in harbor is safe, but that’s not what ships are built for.

I’m not suggesting that we all quit our jobs, cheat on our partners, and destroy our institutions. That’s for Tuesday’s blog. I write all this to convince you (and me) that you don’t need to make something “great” of your life. Your life doesn’t need to be on the cover of Kinfolk to feel beautiful. It’s enough that you’re here. Please let yourself feel small, it means you can go anywhere from here.