[23] The Escape is Of Pride.

An Op-Ed that explores escapism through the lens of the consumption of the arts, stubbornness or self-grandeur, and religious rhetoric.

Neon Genesis Evangelion ingrained within me two takeaways most profound. How do you expect others to love you when you are incapable of loving yourself, and wouldn't it be remiss to miss out on your life because you were too busy escaping life itself? In other words, the show touches on escapism — the pursuit of an alternative activity which distracts oneself from the unpleasantries of reality. 

Escapism has remained on the backburner of my mind. Partly because it served as a cautionary tale (a caution for what, I can’t quite pinpoint), but mostly because I couldn’t quite decipher how it could permeate my life. After years of contemplation and continued life, I have experienced escapism myself beyond what I’d understood through its mere definition. 

1 PREPARATION

(SO I THINK IT'S TIME FOR US TO HAVE A TOAST)

The pursuit of a fuller life should, in theory, contradict the whims of escapism. Here, it’s important to hone in on what it means to possess fullness in one’s life. It seems to me that life becomes fuller through experience — experience not merely explored within the context of one’s life, but the experience of others which projects itself onto oneself. 

Art (as an archived vessel of emotion, expression, and evocation) seems to stand as a metric for the fullness of one’s life, as both something to be experienced and to be engineered. Art tethers humans on the basis of our shared traits, which stretch broadly to encapsulate what it means to be human. Traits embedded into our memory, our empathy, our hypotheticals, our desires. Traits emerged from strokes of paint, strings of alphabet, and captured frames of light. 

The notion of being well-informed in the medium of the arts must feel so sophisticated, so soulful. In fact, it personally astonishes me how I can find so much importance in engaging with something so inherently unproductive (in the sense that art does not serve the economy, the infrastructure, the laws, the goodwill of men…). 

And yet, the consumption of art positions itself as an utmost excuse and an utter escape. Even the most decorated critic capable of extracting the most profound philosophies from a work of art can only explore their experiences within the context of their own lives — on the other hand, the creation of art aims to apply the experiences of one curator to many an audience. The inconsistency in the ease of consuming and curating art lies in the preparation. 

As per what art aims to embody, the human experience is one marked by preparation. It’s taught early on that a solid foundation must be formed for any semblance of success to be seized. The curator exposes themselves to the world, each work of art a fragment of their soul infused into craft forevermore — the consumer may even be compelled to create their own art, but preparation is daunting. 

I spend so much time thinking about how to approach things “correctly” that I wear myself out from ever truly approaching them. I forget that seeking a shortcut is mere distraction — that only by bluntly approaching things do you solve them most efficiently, most engagingly. I’ve long escaped from seeking out and solemnly engaging with experiences that would’ve given me the clarity I desire — on industry practices, on reliable connections, on provocative perspectives. And it’s a shame, because engaging with art has allowed me to understand what I do and don’t appreciate — and yet that metric hasn’t been put to productive use beyond the art of others. 

2 PRIDE

(AT LEAST YOU KNOW THAT’S WHAT I’M GOOD AT)

Here, escapism equates to an unwillingness to engage because my pride tells me that I’m already great enough. The true hubris of the consumer lies in their belief that they can prepare further without the critique of others. 

The persistence in preparation trickles from the fear of failure. The preparation isn’t unproductive, which makes it all the more deceiving. When you win, all you think about is how you’ve proved yourself. It’s only when we lose that we think about everything else. I am a reflective individual (to the extent of my own downfall), and the fears of reiterating my failure during those contemplative inner monologues drew me further from applying my preparation. I had enough wins to feel as though I was “good enough” — that very notion being what poisoned my dedication and drive. 

Failure makes one feel as though they need to restart, to redefine oneself, to refresh their pursuits. Those who reject the fallacy of sunk costs are faced with the notion that what they’ve pursued hasn’t been working well enough now, so they may as well drop those pursuits before they sink in any more costs come the future. But without sinking, you can’t possibly feel compelled to save yourself from drowning. There exists a fine line between suffering for suffering’s sake, but there exist those failures of yesteryear I should’ve embraced earnestly. 

I condemn my valuation of pride — is it truly so precious that you would rather your pride than an opportunity to progress? 

3 PIETY

(CAUSE YOU COULD BLAME ME FOR EVERYTHING)

Working more doesn’t mean you deserve it more. I exude discipline but lack direction. My engine runs tirelessly inefficient on gas, and I only have the vaguest idea of where I’m headed. 

Religion remains so compelling because it promises that all things happen for a reason. That there exists a strategic tapestry of some promised divine attention. As my lived experience deepens, I become increasingly less confident in my capability to ascertain what I’m meant to extract from an experience. 

The teachings of God have served as a court of comfort. When I pray, I pray that He’ll tell me what I need to accomplish. Not that He’ll give us what we need, but for His trust in my promise that I’ll accomplish what I’ve been fated to do. I wonder how many times I’ve been offered an opportunity to try something new, to turn a blind eye, to make a selfish choice, to choose an act of benevolence, to seize an unlikely opportunity — only for me to deny because I’d been too stubborn in believing what I’m doing now is good enough and good for me. 

I hope God is not frustrated with me as much as I am frustrated with myself. I hope He heeds my prayers. 

4 PONDER

(I ALWAYS FIND SOMETHING WRONG)

The crux of escapism is to avoid addressing any of one’s problems, and such is what permeates the reflections I engage in. It’s expected in reflection to shamelessly offer myself for self-dissection — but I fail to suture my soul sufficiently in fear I’ll stab my soul. Lessons learned too late, or at least learn too loosely to be applied clear-cut into my life. Or lessons not learned at all.

Memories of my past fade into obscurity, and fuzziness invades the present. I am constantly absorbed inwards — into my thoughts, into my music and media, into my hobbies. Chopinions serves as my attempt at art, to branch out. I wish to no longer escape.