During the last couple of days, befallen by a typical longing after my university days - and I only say typical because of the change-of-job, change-of-industry syndrome - and at the same time treasuring memories of the good solid academic debate, I started seriously considering a long awaited comeback to my alma mater in some form or other.
But whilst getting a different degree has always ranked high amongst my priorities, the return to the ivory tower couldn't have crossed my mind as the onyl viable alternative to the 'real' world. Until recently, that is.
Don't get me wrong. I love my job. I get up in the morning jumping into my boots with alacrity to get on the DLR and go to bed trebling with anticipation at the thought of a new day.
But advertising has helped me see the worst of today and the pandemonium of tomorrow. It has - one too many times, alas - shown me what guilt-ridden, consumerism laden, presumptious, recycled identities we've become, reduced to being defined only by the actions we perform online.
I don't mean to sound like a pompous old fart, but I don't like the fact that, in reinventing the already reinvented with total disregard for what used to be known as common sense, my generation and, sadly, my children's, have failed miserably at becoming.
I see people so concerned with listing their titles they forget who they are without them. I see literature being mocked and pseudo-intellectualism flourishing. By the way, I consider the latter more dangerous than plain stupidity. I see individuals with a speck of culture passing for philosophers and unsolicited opinions\comments\rants bordering lunacy. I slook at blogs sprouting with the certainty they can overcome their subculture status and substitute schooling. Or common sense.
Today, when I was reading a book that made me cry - yes, I'd give Orhan Pamuk the Nobel again, but they haven't put me in the jury yet - I realised that there is still a little hope left in all the rubbish heaps surrounding us. It just takes longer to dig it out.
