Evolution Revolution

Regarding my present life status: 

Yesterday I binged season four of Insecure. In bed. While ingesting the full contents of one movie theater box of Reese’s Pieces. That I identified with this particular season more than forty-eight-year-olds are supposed to? may also be relevant. At what age is it socially acceptable to define, or re-define, ourselves? Is the general populace under the impression that it occurs just once? Maybe after we complete our undergrad and take a semester to prospect the Tuscan countryside and the novelty of minimalism? You know, preceding the life stage in which we make 10pm posts that say things like, “The dream is free; the hustle is sold separately”, with feigned exasperation when we’re actually (not so secretly) seeking validation for working more than we do … basically anything else? Then I guess we produce or otherwise procure juvenile influencers, a second home and the notion that everyone wants to be us? Fuck that. All of it. Unless you’re actually into it, in which case get on. I’m doing like Issa, figuring it out. I wish my mom would say all the things her mom said to her in episode six.  

At what age is it socially acceptable to define, or re-define, ourselves?

 
I also wish it was understood that existing in life’s liminal space isn’t avoidance, escapism, or languor; it’s bad-assery. Do you understand the fortitude required to defy all societal norms and do one hundred percent You for a period of more than seventy-two hours? You’ve got to unravel a literal lifetime of societal conditioning then continue to operate, upstream, in a Matrix made of said conditioning and the mobs of conditioned inhabitants who will unreservedly relinquish the seven spare moments they claim to possess in order to advise you that you’re a selfish, childlike, irreparable dreamer who should get her shit together and rouse to the reality that life is meant to be difficult. The sooner, they’ll add, you allow your juvenile bubble, and consequently your spirit, to be broken, the sooner you, too, can buy things from Madewell and capture photographic evidence of your food. That’s when, from what I understand, you become the undead and acquire special foundation from Sephora designed specifically to maintain the appearance of a healthy human glow. Fuck that, too. Sephora is extortionate and there is no glow a generous portion of idgaf can compete with. Climb the mountain. Swim upstream. Get beast mode with it.

... there is no glow a generous portion of idgaf can compete with.


If you’re distinctly indomitable, you’ll occupy the in-between a number of times. It’s really not a one and done model unless, of course, you’re only going to be two versions of You in life. To make clear the ramifications of this choice, if you’re reading this you’ve already burned through one version by nature of ascending past childhood. Arguably, your adolescence was a free trial. So, I guess you’re your final You now. Hope you like them. No refunds. All sales final. Sound unfair, limiting, oppressive? That’s because it is. Failure to evolve is a life sucking villain not an option, and even though there are certain milestones during which evolution occurs for the majority, those are data points not directives. Any number of unique circumstances and random experiences can catalyze the need for change. We either recognize them for what they are and get on the roller coaster that is figuring it out (again) or we dip into denial and a table for four at Cheesecake Factory. Perhaps you enjoy book bound menus requiring legends and you don’t care for unique or random circumstances. Perhaps you’ve achieved a safe, controlled environment where surprises are limited slightly less than risk and everyone gets ice cream. Congratulations, you’ve been sterilized. Please keep your vanilla comments to yourself while the rest of us fuck around with Miso Spam gelato. 
 

Life is whatever you want it to be. You’re going to want it to be different things at different times. Sometimes, you won’t be sure what you want it to be. And that’s ok. All of it.


I’m going to espouse a cliché now, but it doesn’t annul the sentiment’s profundity. Life is whatever you want it to be. You’re going to want it to be different things at different times. Sometimes, you won’t be sure what you want it to be. And that’s ok. All of it. When life falls short of your expectations, take your power back - do something different. Do it even though it’s arduous for you, incomprehensible to others, and may require the relinquishing of chain restaurants and friends and forced fantasies about what life is supposed to be. 
 
I had hoped to write this from the proverbial view from the top which for me, I think is living like Little House on the Prairie but without all the church stuff. As it turns out, I’m writing from the thick of it where everyone thinks I’m an asshole and the finish line is out-of-focus. But I’m keeping my eyes on my path and my feet moving. If you’re doing the thing right now where you go, “But what about other people and shouldn’t we consider how our optimal lives affect them and what does ‘good’ even mean anyway?”, and any other high school psychology class evaluations, stop reading. I don’t like you, and you’re not going to like me. You took a risk by reading this, and it didn’t pay off. Go get an avocado eggroll and throw shade at me on Twitter. 

Idgaf.
Poet | Nonprofit Founder | Guide 👁 | Mentor ☯️ | Human (probably) | Everybody’s Weird Auntie ✊🌍 www.wewriteforchange.org
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