The Locus Of Control

A wise man recently informed me that adulthood is “merely recognizing the minimum of practicality and pragmatism.” I used to think that once I hit a certain mark on the developmental timeline of life things would change. Insurance, bedtimes, liquor consumption.

But now I realize that for so long, the adults around me were all in on it. Going about their lives, failing and succeeding, all secretly terrified that they might be found out. I think this is especially true for women (see: the Impostor Syndrome), but as I’ve dated more functional men with seemingly authentic goals it seems apply to everyone to a degree. Universally, no one knows what the hell they are doing most of the day. The rest of our hours are spent making pledges to be better or rise above.

My mother has a shirt that says Live Your Best Life on it. Her friend bought it for her when she went to see the Oprah show live. I cry whenever I see Oprah interviewed about her success. This is also true of Gloria Steinem. And Mariah Carey.

I constantly remind myself to recognize the minimum. Then I aim to do more.

• I may never have an ideal organizational system for my plastic bags.
• I will never dress appropriately for the weather.
• Tacos. All the time. 
• I can do a maximum of five things in the morning before 6:30AM. Four of them are hygiene related. None of them are breakfast.
• Internet. Forever. 

Adulthood: it beats the hell out of puberty.