Down the rabbit hole

My boss has kindly given me two days off to study for my exam, and so far I have naturally used it to procrastinate. Not on purpose, mind you, but it’s hard not to fall back into the student trap of never having anything to do, but never having any free time, either. It’s an amazing, wormhole-like paradox, but I have far more ‘spare’ time now that I’m stuck in the 9-5 office job. As a mathematician, I am fuddled.

Still, time elasticity paradoxes aside, it was on a procrastination trip to the shopping centre (to buy one non-essential item, might I add) that I realised just how much of a sucker I am. Heading out into the buzz of a city in the middle of a work day is both a fascinating and depressingly surreal experience. There were people everywhere: sitting in cafes, arguing politics on park benches, lounging around under trees playing guitars – and they weren’t even students. Where do all these people come from? Don’t they have jobs? And why do they look so damn happy?!

The answer to the last question, of course, is obvious: because they’re not at work. Rather, they’re out here in this parallel world of daywalkers, where everyone is happy and noone has to photocopy everything. Being absorbed into this culture, even for a moment, I was able to wander freely, inconspicuously, and take a closer look at how it all worked. I was shocked to realise, that – no! – some of these people were actually working. Scrbbling things in notebooks next to their lattes, typing on the netbook under the tree, discussing political arguments with a view to dissecting them on paper later. They had it all!

And then it struck me: I didn’t have to be a sucker. Why don’t they tell us this in school? I can make a living without a necktie or an alarm clock? Is it really so?

The obvious path to enter this world is, of course, to become a writer. Unfortunately, the economist in me knows that supply far outweighs demand in this hideous excuse for an industry. Fortunately, the American sitcom junkie in me is totally addicted to Californication, in which the lead character, Hank Moody, lives a chequered life of freedom and frivolity on the beach. (Of course, Hank, played by David Duchovny, is probably not the best role model to base a midlife-crisis-induced career change on – but I’ll let you Google his personality failings for yourself.)

Unfortunately, a career in professional chess (as perfect as it would be) is just a little beyond those of us floundering around the top 500. Not that it’s any different for those all the way to the top 50, mind you. Damn Carlsen!

The alternative, of course, is to pack in the game of kings and instead become a poker player. The drawbacks to this are numerous, however, and suffice to say that some of my colleagues who have chosen the path of darkness have lead far more morally dubious lives than Hank Moody can even dream of. So, it’s back to the books (and then office) for me.

Nevertheless, as I came home with nought but a queazy feeling of post-modernism and a solitary mango, I couldn’t help but think that it hardly seems fair that others can earn a living from the comfy couch of the local alternative cafe. I mean, sure, we are contributing to the public good by fighting through the dichotomy of politics and policy during the day, and furthering the wealth of human existence through academia at night… but tell that to the guy on the grass.

Sigh. Right, so: “Question 2: If x is fixed and y is a function of labour, calculate the….”