For those of you who just CAN’T

You know what feels incredibly cringe and weird sometimes?

Giving a shit about stuff you do that isn’t work.

Do you know how long it took me to start this damn blog? I work in tech, so if I start a blog it feels like I have to write about tech, you know? Because you only get to be the thing you’re also getting paid for. So the most appropriate thing for me to write about would be how the development of artificial intelligence in the modern worksjlasfhoenflkchk jesus christ how about I walk into oncoming traffic instead and spare us all?

The problem is…I’m not an expert on anything, I also don’t want to talk about the same garbage all the time. That’s a bummer by the way, because everybody tells you ALL THE TIME to find your one thing.

That ONE thing.

You know??? Look, that’s Sally, she rides motorcycles. Look that’s Stan, he buys bitcoin. Look, there’s Dingleburg, he sneaks into office buildings, rides the elevator up and down and silently but violently farts as soon as people get on. You know??????? THE ONE THING!

So after a couple of moments of utter paralysis and deeply searching for anything within me that makes me sound like I know what I’m talking about, I had finally decided:

This blog is about nothing and everything at all. Both at the same time. I just like to write, I also like to crack the occasional joke. That just has to be enough, because if I can afford the domain name and the squarespace (no plug and also…humble brag) subscription, I should have every right to do whatever I damn well please!

So…what now?

Well, I guess I would like to let you know that if you feel the same about certain things, you’re not alone. If you’re the master of none, the jack of all trades, the one that reads books about Plato on Tuesday and the entire collection of “your mom”-jokes on Friday: you’re not alone. I’m confused too. But you know what? I think you just need to share all of it. Share all the wonky paintings, the off-sounding songs, the workouts that make you look and feel like a weak ass bitch. All of it. I know we’re all bombarded with these perfect, athletic, talented people who found their elevator-fart-spirit animals.

I haven’t. You haven’t!

Who cares?

(Also delete tiktok that’s like the Nr.1 cure to all your problems, trust me!)

You’re allowed to paint, even if you’re no Picasso (who’s paintings are weird as fuck and that’s exactly the point). You’re allowed to work out whether you’re skinny OR fat. You’re allowed to play chess even though you get the pieces mixed up all the time and make stupid mistakes.

This sounds incredibly easy and maybe even somewhat inspiring (??), because I’m just that kind of magical fairy, but we both know it isn’t. We both know you can only be something you’re either good at or get paid for. And people around you will take every chance they get to remind you of that.

Go ahead!
Test them.

Next time you’re at work and you and your team go for lunch, tell them you’re a painter. There’s always that one bitch that will ask “oh so you’re really good at painting?”.
No Barbara, I’m a colorblind, five times lobotomised absolute fucking dumbass with 10 broken fingers and the depth perception of an inbred hamster, but I fucking paint so I am a goddamn painter so maybe eat your pinenut brokkoli salad that smells like farts and silence yourself!

It takes a bit of courage to just do shit publicly that you’re not really exceptionally good at and then give yourself the title of that particular thing. But we need to stop gatekeeping these things. At least in my opinion. Especially because you’ll find most people who are good at something will be the first to invite you into their club. Their confidence doesn’t seem to be dependent on the failure of others. What a wild concept, right?

I could go on an hour-long rant about the paralysis of analysis and all the missed opportunities and passed on experiences one could have had. If we just…started. Just START.

Before I end this blog (lol there’s like, a whole paragraph left) and leave you to your thoughts or my thoughts let me tell you about a trap. A trap that’s so alluring, so attractive, we basically all want to step into it. Thinking it will make us look cool like Angelina Jolie in that one movie where she’s being shot at and the bullet passes her head by just an inch and all she does is twitch with her eye a little bit. You know which one? That trap is called “not caring”, or rather “pretending something doesn’t matter”. It’s this feeling that, in the end, nothing matters. We’re all gonna die and that’s that. Why should I go on that trip to Italy? In the end, I’ll be dead and the effort of such a journey will be meaningless. Blerg.

Why stop there? Don’t bother what you dress like, don’t bother with exercise, don’t bother with how you treat the people around you, don’t bother with books or music or going on that walk. My philosophical rant stops here, but do you get it?

This is a message from me to you, if you feel paralysed:

It’s okay to get really excited and invested in silly things that don’t feel like they matter.

Because they do! Sometimes in only your own life, but sometimes also in the life of others.

Let me give you the best example right here:
I journal, because it’s supposed to be good for your mental health or whatever. And I, a 33 year old corporate businesswoman, like to put stickers of little animals into my journal on each page to make me go “uuuuh”. This garbage is called “the small things in life” and I am here embracing it like some sort of softcooked snowflake and boy am I thriving.

I digress…

I go on Etsy for another one of my sticker shopping sprees and after I sorted out the obvious temu reposts I find an artist from Finland. I order a bunch of her stickers and they arrive about a week after. At this point I had already forgotten I ordered them, which is a byproduct of years of Amazon retail therapy. So when I opened my letterbox, I was utterly surprised to find the cutest little envelope with a personal, handwritten message. The stickers were fucking beautiful and she added a few extra for good measure. She thanked me for supporting her “silly little business” and I shit you not - I almost cried. I swear on my dad’s grave (who is still very much alive) that I opened this letter and I teared up almost immediately. Probably a sudden surfacing of almost three decades of suppressed emotions, but this lady with her adorable artsy stickers seemed to do it for me.

I wrote her a message that this was the best purchase I’ve ever made, thanked her for sharing her art with the world. She responded almost immediately, telling me how grateful she was I reached out to tell her.

I still keep that envelope pinned to my fridge.

If she hadn’t cared about her silly little art and her silly little business, I wouldn’t have had that moment.

I hope you needed to hear that right now. :) Do your thing. I’m doing my blog and my doodles. Sometimes I also take pictures. I don’t care about SEO or attention retention editing. I know…WILD!

So yeah…

Good luck out there!

:)