I just took another tiny little baby step on the path to dropping out, a.k.a. liberation. Maybe I'll write about it later. Then again, maybe I won't.

Last night, I read the chapter in Immanuel Goldstein's book that talked about the modern bourgeoisie. The part about that talked about the context of youth rebellion in modern culture got me thinking.

It basically made the point that though most adolescents are unaware of it at the time, their rebellion is not only tolerated, but actively encouraged by "the system". The purpose of this goes beyond just selling teenagers tokens to prove that they are "sticking it to the man", though that is certainly part of it. But there is an even deeper reason for the system to actively sell rebellion that seemingly opposes itself to the youth of America.

If thoughts or deeds of rising up against an insane machine are forever associated with adolencence, this keeps the adults from rising up. Anyone over the age of 25 who speaks, thinks, or acts to contravene the status quo is commonly considered immature, or "not acting his age". Thus, anybody with any real power rarely acts up (how much money or real influence are teenagers, even rich ones, likely to have?), and the way of things is preserved. Another side benefit (from the machine's perspective) is that parents become alienated from their children, families are destabilized, and everyone becomes even more dependent on the capitalist power structure. Food for thought.

--Anthrax, from The Sound of White Noise album.
Purchased circa spring of 1993, and listened to on a semi-nightly basis by yours truly for much of the next year.

In comparison to most, I was not a particularly rebellious teenager. Ask just about any of my teachers, and I bet they would have told you I was a good little conformist. I followed instructions, didn't talk back, dutifully did my homework (most of the time), and didn't act up. Though I was certainly into the rebellious music and pop culture (who wasn't?), I kept any anti-conformist sentiments that I might have harbored hidden quite deeply.

Nor did I do much rebelling against my parents. They didn't give me any reason to. They never imposed curfews (I never stayed out all that late anyway); though there had been some spats about it when I was littler, as a teenager, they never tried to stop me from listening to whatever music I wanted (that's not to say that they didn't dislike my stuff); they mostly trusted my judgement, and didn't attempt to impose strict rules.

For this, I was generally grateful. The only downside was that having permissive parents gave me even less common ground with a lot of my peers, whose parents were frequently bearing down on them. I couldn't relate to it, nor did I have any similar experiences of my own to talk about. Add one more item to the ways in which I was different from everybody else.

Enter adulthood. The more I look at the world, and examine how it all works, the more I see that the way "they" run this thing is a truly fucked up state of existence, at least for me. I want to rebel. I want to break out. I want to change things, or if I can't do that, then get as far away from it as I possibly can.

Meanwhile, everyone else now seems more or less content with the essential nature of it. Oh sure, people will say there's some things that could use improvement here and there, but nobody is rising up, and saying, "Wait a sec, we could turn this around if we all acted together." In more than one former workplace, I have felt surrounded by reluctant apathy.

So now, I find myself inching closer and closer to the dropout lifestyle, and the closer I get, the more I want it. But I have to be careful, because if I move too fast, I'll fuck it up again, and then find myself back in a cycle of dependence, sitting content behind the velvet prison bars; a pig, in a cage, on antibiotics.

It also occurs to me that maybe the so-called "normal" lifestyle works perfectly well for most people; if they are truly happy with it, then I do not want to rob anyone of their happiness. That is contrary to my purpose.

I simply cannot stomach the idea of spending the rest of my life in a pattern of working, consuming, watching; working, consuming, watching; working, consuming, watching. I tried it for two and a half years. I was paid what I considered to be a very decent wage, by a company that (right up until the last few months) treated its employees very well. But even before the "big purge", I was unhappy; not because of what anyone else had done to me, but because my life was a shallow, purposeless farce.

Word is that the economy is getting better, but I find that even if jobs become plentiful, I do not want to get another corporate job. I do not want to pay rent, or buy a house and spend 30 years paying mortgage. I do not want to get married. (That is not intended as a slight at those who do want these things, and work to get them. I am only speaking of my own life decisions, not trying to make judgements about anybody else's.) No, what I want to do is detach myself, to whatever degree is possible, from this entire process.

Recently, I have found that the resistance is not only real, but thriving. I have no solid proof of this. Only a few websites where others have written their stories, books which speak of "revolution", and pamphlets denying its existence, even as their very presence confirms it.

Knowing that others have walked the path makes it a little easier, even if it is only in the knowing itself. "I am not alone. Someone else has truly been where I seek to go."

Practicality. Here is my course:

I plan to continue working for x13 for the next month at least, maybe several. This serves 2 purposes. (1) It gives me a chance to build up a modest supply of currency for whatever lies ahead. (2) It allows some time to complete what has been started, and give scott plenty of head time before I do anything crazy. Then, I will execute the dream that has been germinating within myself for a long, long time.

I will cut loose. At least for a while. Become homeless. Let life teach me whatever lessons it must. If it kills me, I would prefer that to the slow suicide of the soul under the drudgery of days wasted in alienated labor, followed by the feeble compensations offered by the consumerist state.

In the meantime, there is other work to do. I am beginning the process of shedding many of my material possessions. Some, I will give away, Others, I may sell. Some might be put on indefinite loan to friends or relatives, though I don't want to burden people with my junk. The volume left with my parents must be minimized. When I leave, I will have my car, whatever stuff I can fit into it, my bike (fitting that along with everything else will be interesting, but I believe possible), clothes, sleeping bag, some music, and anything else to personally valuable to part with.

This is the other half of becoming free. One side of the slavery coin is the servitude. The other is the material reward that comes from it -- the addiction. Both must be addressed.

Ya'll may think I'm crazy and impulsive, and that is your right. But on this, my mind is set. I have spent much time contemplating it long and hard. Who knows? After I have had a good taste of dropout living, I may decide I want to return to slavery, and all the benefits it provides. I don't know what will happen. But somewhere, there must be faith. Faith is alive in me, even after I thought it dead, and hope was gone. That tells me I am following a path that is right for me.