As adults…must we end our weekend rerun marathons of Aqua Teen?
Quit being giddy? Develop that annoying “work voice” that jarred us the first time we heard dad enact it on the phone with his boss because we could totally hear the hidden terror in his voice? Must we transmogrify into that? My buddy Richard had this convo with an anonymous acquaintance he was trying to Socratically assist.
Eh – half a convo, anyway.
He actually got shut down seven syllables into graciously inviting said friend into the Wonka World of options you have as a card carrying member of the grown-ass-man club. Why? That all-dreaded Voldemort-esque violation of improv 101’s course in “yes…and”…. Dare I say it?
The word… “No.”
Tantamount to “I already know” (which we’ll also cover in a second), this is a ruiner of levity, learning, and life in general.
Equanimity in physical adulthood includes loving what you do so much it erases anxiety of failure. Our kid-spirits die from hiding in a prison of low-expectations which gets torched in fiery fear of not meeting those expectations. If we’re alright with our low expectations, we survive. We perfunctorily pump out money. But if we resent fulfilling the dreams that were laid out by our “you-have-to-have-a-9-to-5” guidance, our brains find ways to slowly sabotage it until we leave that gig – voluntarily or not.
I spend some days writing from dark thirty A.M. to dark thirty P.M. Why? Because I’m having fucking fun. It’s work, but when it stops being fun? I stop, too – and refill the inspiration train with eureka fuel. My work’s spurred by building off other people’s. (note: this method is also a form of “yes-and’ing” – like this whole article #inception)
We don’t have to sit in a soul-sucking sea of tail lights to ride from one fluorescent tomb to the next. We don’t have to wear a tie to thrive financially. And we don’t have to work a job we hate so much that we create an alterego, adipose soap, and an afterwork ass kicking association of which we are dear leader.
So what this dude thinks of my homie is irrelevant. I and everyone who really knows him – knows he does. I can text Rich at almost any ungodly hour and he replies ’cause he’s awake. And working. And makin’ that dollah. You know what else he does? He watches the same cartoons he did as a kid. And you know what else else he does? Combines the fun of cartoon kid-hood with work. It’s totally possible. There’s just no room for apathy. Or closed minds.
But we can’t control whether others listen or are honest or what they think of us. And who wants to anyway if they’re that narrow minded? Keeping around low-vibe folk just mucks up the awesomeness that is our reality. If you think ill of me, then guess what I think of you?
And that’s essentially what my homeboy did. Ignore the cognitively closed, and blog like a boss.
That said, I’m not bashing whoever-this-is. I don’t know ’em.
Also, that unnamed kid’s logic does resonate with my own defects. I too tend to think ten steps ahead. And it comes from that irrational desire to find out every solution on my own. Those nauseating two words which hit my own ears like the acrid masturbatory opposite of an orgasm (“I KNOW!”). But if somebody else teaches me something through a heuristic line of questioning, then how can I take credit for it?
(Note I say “defects”; intrinsic behavioral flaws to jettison when they surface)
The problem with that though is this: people inwardly revile – not revere – know it alls. We like open-minded listeners. No one likes to feel like someone else is manipulating them or working a personal agenda. But that’s why it’s important – not to shut them out – but to listen: presently, then critically. That way we can digest it and ask ourselves how the words sit after. Then we decide what to do with it or how to reply. Note that’s the last step. Trying to look good by lying to advice-givers is like wearing spanks to bag a dude. You get found out fast.
Although it’s a perpetual revelation to me – I do understand we don’t learn shit by pretending we’re mentalists, leaping along a neural lily-pad chain whenever queried. I mean…what if my assumption’s wrong? (“Do you think I’m an adult?”…”Yes!”…”Okay! Here’s a million dollars for answering me honestly!”) See what I mean? So get inspired for adulthood – but before you do, grab some metaphorical popcorn and watch where these question-shows go. If you hate it, you can always leave.
Unless you’re the latest dungeon-prisoner Rich has tied up to his Kool-Aid Man shaped fountain. Then you must remain there and hear him sing songs from “Frozen”.
Until it’s time for your remains to be frozen.