There's a spectre haunting the subconsciousness of my generation. It has crawled from parent to child, it's ugly, grotesque form masqueraded by cultural traditions, public education and universal morality, squirming through decade and century. You know it when it rears it's loathsome head because you can hear it in the way your parents described their days; they were never exciting or worthwhile tales, rather they were nothing more than mundane and banal descriptions of busiwork, coupled with the infamous conclusion: "...and I get to do it all again tomorrow." Does one ever look up to that life? It might have been hard, honest work or provided plenty of revenue for the household but did the parents ever appear happy? Or had the idea of comparing and contrasting happiness and monetary fortune long disappeared from their heads and from their childrens' heads? Has neo-liberal psuedo-optimism pushed the residents of these past few centuries into self-imposed slavery? What makes us eternally toil for and under a proxy of our collective willing?


If you're asking me (and I assume you are, you've read thus far), it's career-destiny.