If you take people out of a structure, they float. If the structure isn't built into their being, attempts to impose structure are going to overwhelmingly fail. Whether we agree with broad-stroke attempts to define and understand the world at-large or not, there are lines on the road, rules codified, and norms that evolve to meet the psycho-social environment. The merit of structure is undeniable. The predictability, imperfect as it may be, is invaluable. I want to know that most of the time the cars are staying on their side of the road.
When do we ask ourselves how much structure is necessary? When do we reflect on what the structure is doing to our ability to float away from something harmful? I find myself both enhanced and handicapped by norms and rules. I severely dislike being late, even if nearly no one shares the same courtesy or anxiety. I couldn't stand school, and still didn't routinely skip class. I'm going to be pressing my luck with my awakeness and desire to contribute meaningfully to my workday, but I'm pretty clearly still intending to make it there.
I'd rather be floating. I've discovered 100 playlists tonight I want to sit here and listen to. I've been doing really well getting through all of my shows, and would like a clean slate to start something new tomorrow. I keep eye-balling a couple books that I need to finish. I was drilling myself to try and identify frets on my guitar by note. Instead, I have to pause, and reset, and shift into “the grind,” so-named for it's ability to wear you down in existential spite.
I was watching Atypical, and the kids are debating whether college was the right kind of course for one of them. I've always been intrigued by people who knew early college wasn't for them. I didn't know I had any other option. School was easy, college was a joke, and ten years later I manage to use my degree for an incidental job after I exhausted my naive resolve to power through alone on my quest to conquer a self-righteous sovereign archetype. I mean, that game is still running, but there's rules I still feel obliged to follow after hitting 30 that I didn't feel I had to follow so hard in my 20s.
Do I still want to break those rules? Absolutely. I'm in a very shoddy approximation of what “structure” and “safety” we're supposed to be bringing to families in crisis. There is no lateral thought. There is no stark-naked facing of the practical truth to how we behave. I didn't know the true extent of the problem in trying to be the only adult in the room. It doesn't matter the field, you have people operating under the cover of that structure, not rocking the boat, come more often hell than any amount of water to put out the fires.
The worst part of lived-experience is that it's the same story. They don't want the numbers. They won't take responsibility. They won't define literally anything, ever. When you try, you get punked. When you press the person in power, they lash out and, predictably, attempt to undermine your effort. They ignore how their failures translate into the failures of those around them. I forgot just how much of my drive to do things my way or by myself was predicated on the horrible spirit of those I encounter. The ones who give up and make excuses. The ones who've packed their lives with so many distractions and things that make them hateful and wretched that nothing remotely possible and uplifting really gets through.
The world of constant justification is the one we occupy. It's the one in fantastic display with the fascist governments that can do no wrong. It's why you're meming instead of writing. It's why you'll suffer in silence, alone, or with your incidental partner, and share the photogenic times. I've found myself prompted to offer reasons I'm not invested in for how things are or aren't moving because I don't feel like the one moving them. That's a crack, and it needs filled. I run headfirst into things and put back together what I've cracked open with my skull.
I meet enough people with some form of “fatal flaw.” They have good or creative ideas, but can't be bothered to organize or promote them. They have a degree of politeness and sociability, but they can't be honest about their responsibility to extend that into situations that make them uncomfortable. They have a personality and enthusiasm, but overwork themselves or pack their schedules so they can't be forced to sit and converse about why they're stuck or feeling helpless. People want to be enabled, and the world provides a dozen reasons a day to keep on with bad habits and bullshit words.
The reason I remain different is my willingness and drive to continue to the end. It's the moment to moment engagement with one or all of the things I say I wish to be engaged in. I suffer from too much and not enough time, not too many words explaining away my ability to contribute. I also subject myself to over-arching rules like “pay off all debt” before I engage in my flights of fancy speculation and business games. How boring you look and feel when you're waiting for 2 months to feel like you're allowed to decorate your bathroom or till soil. How useless you feel when the weather is right for tree-digging, but the weekend becomes the most precious thing as you attempt to peel your exhausted soul away from the work drama.
I still believe there's an insane amount of time that goes unaccounted for. I think part of my ability to continue to believe in myself is knowing things can change in an instant. I say that a lot, because it's true. You stumble into something that grows, and suddenly you've got cash or a connection under which the world opens up. My plot to be able to actually use my paychecks is still playing out. I can get into a lot of fun or trouble very quickly with $1000 and nothing else on my mind. I haven't given up on that singular premise for years, and it's afforded me this breathing room. I feel like I've watched people give up on their fundamental place and drive a long time ago, and I'm swamped by people who've maybe never had one.
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