The Pursuit

The Declaration of Independence tells us that we are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, but I have never understood the correlation between independence and pursuit.  Perhaps I am going about the whole thing incorrectly, but the act of pursuing happiness (more specifically, all those things which I believe will make me happy) makes me feel utterly dependent rather than liberated.  Lately I have been feeling especially ruled by this impetus to chase, and the effects of obeying this impetus are a bit troubling to me.  It's akin to being a passenger in your own car in that you have clearly given someone else permission to drive but you are acutely aware that you are not truly in control.  The reality is that none of us are truly in control of our lives, a fact evinced by such events as the Virginia Tech massacre four years ago yesterday, Hurricane Katrina, the earthquakes in Japan, September 11, etc.  Barring forces of nature and senseless acts committed by fellow human beings, however, we essentially map the trajectories of our own lives.  I am interested in our reasons for mapping them in the countless various ways we do.  I am interested in pursuing the concept of pursuit.

I do not want to live in New York City, and even if I wanted to, I do not think my personality or bank account are suited for it.  Why, then, have I applied for publishing jobs smack dab in the core of the Big Apple?  I don't know.  Let me put you on hold so you can ask my boss, Pursuit.  Pursuit says that I will not be happy until I find a career in a field for which I have an aptitude and a passion (apparently Pursuit likes to use confusing sentence structures), and all the editing/publishing jobs are in NYC.  The truth is that I do not think I will get any of these jobs anyway, but now that I have gone and done the thing, I am inevitably invested in the possibility that I will.  No one does something to get null results; action is predicated on the expectation of reaction, be it positive or negative.  Something will change when I hear back from the companies I applied to: I will either prepare myself for interviews and reexamine the idea of moving or I will know that it wasn't meant to be after all.  The key is that I will have learned something.  If I had never applied in the first place, I would be left wondering if I was cheating myself out of a different, a happier, future.  Thomas Jefferson was no fool.  He knew that "happiness" needed a modifier, that even if we were entitled to it and were given it on a silver platter, we would not believe we had it anyway.  We report to Pursuit because we, each one of us, chose him as our boss.  We resist taking a chance on Chance because she works for, and against, everyone.  Pursuit is a paycheck and Chance is the lottery.  As Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes sings, "I'd rather be working for a paycheck than waiting to win the lottery."

The underlying assumption of this choice between Pursuit and Chance is that we want happiness.  If we didn't want to be happy, we wouldn't bother working or waiting for anything.  We wouldn't feel dependent or hopeful or in any way let down if our actions or inactivity resulted in a displeasing consequence.  I don't think any of us want to live this way, even in our darkest moments.  Unhappiness is closer to happiness than is apathy.  As with all things, moderation is key.  I know it's cliche, but it's true.  Maybe our best bet is to employ both Pursuit and Chance and, in so doing, realize that in choosing which to employ, we assert our independence.  In the midst of my pursuit of a career, a good man, a purpose, I will try to give Chance the wheel occasionally.  The next time someone asks you "Who's the boss?", you may answer "Tony Danza" (because you are so witty) or "the pursuit."  But it's you, dear friend.  It's you.