Potato Boulders

Something we seem to do a lot here at Secrets is what we've deemed "soul-sharing." With that in mind, I have several "confessions" to make. Confession number one: I am a geek. I'm sure any one that reads this blog regularly will be shocked by this confession. But Kat, you're saying, you always seem so incredibly awesome. How could you possibly be a geek? (Alright, I know you aren't really saying that, but I'd really, really like to imagine that you are.) And it's true, dear readers, I am a geek. I'm not the stereotypical geek, certainly, but I am a geek. I hate math, I've never been all that into sci-fi, I'm so bad at video games that I make Pacman cry, and as far as science is concerned, the only thing I can do with a test-tube is break it. However, I am a geek. Wikipedia says "The word geek is a slang term, noting individuals as "a peculiar or otherwise odd person, especially one who is perceived to be overly obsessed with one or more things including those of intellectuality, electronics, gaming, etc."[1] " Geeks are generally associated with intelligence and social awkwardness, and I certainly possess enough of those characteristics to qualify. (On second thought, perhaps I'm not a geek;I'm a nerd. I'm really not in the mood to split hairs right now.) All of this talk about geeks is really only supposed to be a lead-in to what I actually want to talk about. I know, I know, this is a ridiculously long introduction, especially since it isn't actually over yet. (Confession number two: I love meta-discourse, and I use it far too much.)

I love mythology; and I am geekily obsessed with it. (See! I told you I was going somewhere with this.) Recently, I've been reading The Power of Myth by Joseph Campbell, and it's gotten me thinking about the universality of myths and the human experience. I've always loved mythology because I could relate to it so well even as it opened my eyes to an exotic world that disappeared centuries ago. The first world that I entered was the Greco-Roman (although it was really more Greek than Roman) Myths. When I was younger I would see myself as the different heroes (or villains) of the myths. One day I was Prometheus, running away from the Gods to bring the gift of fire. The next I was Medea, plotting my revenge. Then Penelope, Circe, Calypso, Hermes, Athena, Artemis, the list goes on and on. I've often dreamt of becoming a modern Orpheus, even though I know that requires far more talent than I could ever possess. At work today, however I realized something: I am Sisyphus.

For those of you unfamiliar with the story, Sisyphus was a Greek king damned by the Gods to roll a boulder up a hill for all eternity. As soon as he reached the top, the boulder would roll down the hill, and he would have to start all over again. I was making fries during the lunch rush today when I saw the similarities between and myself. (Confession number three: I work in a fast-food restaurant that shall be nameless on this blog.) Now, I hate fries, as fries are the most monotonous job imaginable. For you lucky people who don't understand what I'm talking about, I'll show you how it's done: Take basket. Fill basket with fries. Drop basket with fries into fry vat and hit timer button. When duty button beeps, take fries out, shake basket, and put fries back in vat. When timer button beeps, take fries out, hang fries to get rid of oil, and pour fries into fry holder. Pour salt on the fries. Mix the fries with a fry scoop. Put fries in individual fry boxes (small, medium, and large.) Repeat ad nauseum. (As you can no doubt see, this is a job that could be done by a lobotmized robot.) Now, we are supposed to have a certain number of each size of fry at all times. However, because I hate fries and I wasn't paying attention today, I could not reach that number. As soon as I made fries, they had disappeared into one mouth or another. I could not roll my boulder of potatoes (well, potato product) up the hill of greed and gluttony. From that realization, I saw that the absurdity of much of modern life. We are all Sisyphus, doomed by our hubris to do the same thing over and over and over again. Unfortunately, this isn't just about potatoes. We make the same mistakes, live the same lives(once you factor in technology), and have the same ideas as our parents did. The human life- birth, childhood, puberty, adulthood, children, aging, and death- has not changed since the Cro-Magnon. We have added technology, but has that really changed anything? We are still rolling the boulder of mortality, trying to get it up to top of that hill. We still fight death, and while we can prolong life, we cannot end death altogether. There is a certain futility in the human condition; we struggle against our own frailty in vain hopes to change reality. (Wow, this has become an incredibly depressing and morbid post for something that started out so light. I'm sorry; I really wasn't intending this.) I'll leave you with this: in my case, the fries weren't disappearing, people were eating them. What seemed idiotic and futile and boring to me, was feeding people and making them happier. So even though I felt like Sisyphus, there was some purpose to my actions.