I'm 31 and Still Don't Know What I Want to Be When I Grow Up
31 Things IDFK at 31!
click play to hear it in my voice!
Touch ID does not recognize your fingerprint my phone tells me 3 times in a row.
Did it finally happen? Surely you don’t get new fingerprints when you timeline jump. Or complete a solar return. Did I finally digest myself, like the caterpillar, and “emerge a new being” like that butterfly oracle card said I would? The thoughts rush through my head in what feels like a whole 2 seconds of chaotic-neutral fun before I drag myself back to reality. Whatever “reality” is!!
According to my birth certificate I turned 31 on Earth Day. I keep accidentally typing 13.
I’ve been told birthdays are important but, at the risk of sounding like Daria which I guess isn’t the worst thing, they feel rather arbitrary to me. I’ve tried, I really have!! I try every year and every year it gets harder to try. Sharing this brings up the same feelings I get when forced to explain that I don’t like games (specifically, but not exclusively, board games). I try to add in a “ha-ha I swear I’m fun” to make the other person feel justified in the enjoyment they clearly get from the game in question made known by the expression on their face as I fumbled to explain that I’d rather receive dental work than sign an invisible contract to sit in a room with a bunch of acquaintances and compete (perform?) with them by following a bunch of rules I’ve never heard of for an undisclosed amount of time…
Look, I don’t know why I am the way that I am, though I’ve certainly spent time trying to figure it out. I’ve learned a few things along the way but they’d be painfully banal to read as text, much like the way people freshly back from a psychedelic trip try to share their revelations. Language has limits and often doesn’t translate well, you kinda have to experience things for yourself to learn them. Oh, look, there’s a Life Lesson for ya!
But today, ANTIREADER, is not about lessons because frankly I’m bored of lessons. I’m sick of disciplining myself. I am tired of growth. As I get older I become dissatisfied with these balanced, idealized ways of being. I want chaos, taboos, perversion. I want depth, soul, shadow. I want to stop using three adjectives in a row as a sentence… I want deep and expansive relationships. I’m not captivated by moral relativism. I want to pressure test our abilities. I want to surround myself with people who are unafraid. I want full embodiment outside the limits of a failing society.
So, in true ANTIEXPERIENCE fashion, I present you with…
31 Things I Don’t Fucking Know at 31
and if you have any answers then please let me know because I luv hearing from y’all.
some things:
I’m 31 and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. The grown-ups look bored or desperate. But I am searching and I suppose that is another form of desperation. Does the searching last forever? Is this ~the Journey~ spiritualists talk about?
When you love someone then don’t see them for years do you still love them?
Or are you just in love with the idea of who they were in relation to who you were?
When time and space elongates the longing and creates a black hole inside of you is that still considered love?
How do you know where to put your potential??
What even is my “potential”?
If societally we have accepted that everyone is Faking it ‘til they make it then why does everyone pretend to have it all figured out? Is it a manifestation technique, an aphorism, or just lying??
If I don’t want children then why do I often see flashes of a little girl with big eyes on my hip teaching me how to become a woman I never thought I could be?
Why does every offense to my body feel much greater now?
What makes my tolerance shrink/expand so rapidly? I think when I spend too much time alone it shrinks dismally.
Will I ever stop acting like an animal in captivity whenever someone begins loving me too much?
Do I actually want more intellectually stimulating work or will it become a consistent headache?
Am I bored?
Am I depressed?
What does family mean?
What does it feel like?
Why do I get sentimentally attached to books?
At what point are we focused more on healing than living?
Isn’t living the whole point?
What if I don’t want to rub myself clean of all the grit and grime that makes me me?
Why do people always die around my birthday?
How do you figure out what you want to do with your life when everything modeled for you thus far seems unappealing?
Why are scallions so tasty???
Do I even like writing?
Do I even like thinking?? Sometimes the simple thought of having to think hard on something exhausts me.
Why am I asking all of these questions?
Should I implement rituals that get me in touch with something greater Or is it just a silly human thing to contemplate something greater?
Why aren’t the norms enough for me?
Can I stop making lists and write a coherent paragraph already?!
Are you excited about your life?
Am I?
I’m 31 and I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. If I decide will I finally become Someone?
Or is the trick to become so fully yourself that aforementioned list begins to fall away. Maybe living and finding a way to enjoy that process is enough. Maybe it doesn’t have to be greater than that. Maybe you don’t have to prove to people that you’re special. Maybe explaining your worth is worthless and finding people who already see it in you is priceless.
Please let me know!!!!!!!!!
Here’s all I can offer as a conclusion at this time:
Gratitude is the key.
Love (ugh) is the anchor.
and what is Hope if not blind, necessary faith? Is this not what keeps us going even though there’s no way to know where we’re headed?
Still haven’t figured out how to Fake the Flow. Thanks for being on the ride with me, ANTIREADER, I am glad you are here.
Talk soon,
Lex