Course: (n) the path over which something moves
I have an internal comedy show going on inside my soul concerning the length of time that each and every fad will last—or shall I say, how quickly that particular “popularism” will disappear.
It wasn’t so long ago that people were bopping around, sticking their noses in your face and posing this question: What is your five-year
The first time I heard this, I realized it was irrelevant, and certainly destined to end up in the cultural cemetery, buried near “far out” and “hula hoop.”
But I have to admit, I was surprised at how long it did persist—and you will occasionally hear people do a variation on the theme: Where do you see yourself in five years?
But I will tell you—I think the reason these ridiculous inquiries gain popularity is that we human beings are weakened by our pernicious insistence that we must follow a course of action.
It seems righteous. It sniffs of organization.
It’s the kind of thing that investors like to hear from an entrepreneur.
- “What are you going to do first?”
- “What’s next?”
- “What would be your third effort?”
I suppose if science, Mother Nature, luck and chaos could be included in our planning meeting for our course of action, and each of them voted to participate and promote the campaign, it might have some possibility.
But since science is only concerned about scientific conclusions and not your whim; Mother Nature has nurtured billions of souls before you showed up with your graphs and plans; luck—well, she remains as ambiguous as the veracity of her identity; and chaos is like a toddler locked up in a room filled with expensive glass vases, you may develop a course but there’s no guarantee that anybody will want to take it.
Time and chance happen to everyone, and sometimes you can be at the right place at the right time, but it still won’t turn out…right.