I don’t believe in either writing as an innately difficult endeavour and in the existential significance of doing things one does not want to do. And ‘cancel culture’, whatever that is, I guess.
Over the years, I have found myself with a better control on my anger through a surprising solution: by distancing myself from the rest of the world. That isn’t necessarily because it’s the rest of the world that’s making me angry, so hear me out first. I had thought that was the case. That I’m often angry, frustrated because of life, of everything and everyone, but apparently, the object of my frustrations is a much smaller bubble.
For one, and this I feel quite embarrassed to admit, that much of my anger then wasn’t mine in the first place. Whatever small bubble I had been in was simply so full of anger, of frustration, of all those unkindly things, that they permeated into my own being and meshed with the rest of it that I found it difficult to distinguish which is which. What I thought would have been oil and water became instead an unsightly mixture I didn’t even have the attention to think of separating. I thought I was angry and completely believed in the cause I was angry for, but now I am not, so did I ever really believe in the first place?
There is so much pressure to choose sides and stick with strong beliefs, and correspondingly, much honour that comes into doing that. But do think about it: people hail the advocates for having a strong sense of advocacy, for being brave, and less for what they’re actually advocating for. Which is great, however, those same people are named for the advocacy itself. What then happens when the same brave person bravely admits changing their mind?
There is also, of course, those cases where people would believe something just because the rest of the community willing to accept them believes those thoughts too and expects others to do the same for them to be welcomed. It’s a lot easier to parrot the rest of one’s bubbles ‘systems of thought’ than it is to take one’s time to think through things on one’s own. And either are especially easier than to say, “Right now, I just don’t really care.”
And by that I mean, in this moment that’s where I am at. There are so many things I used to care so strongly about but lately I’ve been realising that my care hasn’t been as genuine as it should be for things I’d spend life on. It isn’t because I now think those things are wrong in anyway—no, not at all. I don’t really know, is the point.
I think another thing that used to bother me about my ‘developing apathy’ is the worry that I’m being less worthy of being human. In order words: that by not caring I become a ‘bad person’. On that note, it’s the same: I neither know nor care. Although, all right, I’ll be honest. I care a bit. Maybe a lot. I’m still writing about it, aren’t I?
So let’s say I do care about being a good person. I think not caring about things I’m only expected to care about (and not really genuinely interested in) doesn’t make me or break me as a person. In fact, I think allowing myself that liberty to care less (or not at all) about anything helps me both care more about the rest that I am genuinely interested in and, honestly, less existentially frustrated. I do not at all work under pressure, as anyone can see with the number of requirements I had either submitted late or not at all in school on the last week of any academic year.
Should you not care about [whatever is happening in the world] at all? Wrong question. Or don’t ask me. Ask yourself and figure it out on your own. And it’s definitely all right if you can’t do that. I’d say that’s much better than unconscious blind faith for anything. Emphasis on unconscious because sometimes blind faith can be okay just as long as one is aware that one is believing blindly.
I don’t have a point in this, I just wanted to write. I guess partly because I have been feeling frustrated at having to write things I don’t care about just because it’s required. What’s the fun in doing things that are expected of you? But also definitely aware that it’s… difficult when you don’t do things that are expected of you. Either way, I’d say it’s best to just get out if possible. Go where it’s either easier to do the things expected of your or where you aren’t expected to do anything. You know what’s fun? Having so much expectations of yourself!
Ah, do I sound angry? I remember this is how I’d be like when I’m angry or frustrated. I used to get annoyed at remembering times when I’d get angry like this. I felt embarrassed thinking how difficult of a person I’d be for petty reasons. However, I’m beginning to think that I’ve been feeling embarrassed less because of my being a difficult person and more for the petty reasons. Nothing more embarrassing for being angry for things you don’t actually care about. I am a fire-and-water dominated person from a fire-dominated household! And I love challenges! Of course, I’d be a challenge to deal with. Hah!
Oh, Gyuri, it’s all so obvious.
Anyway, I do have a point, and that is: writing is easy. It’s as easy as riding a bike (full disclosure that I do not anymore know how to ride one). It’s literally just talking but using a different sort of paint to make the picture. Writing is only difficult when it’s either forced (whether that’s a forced ‘topic’ or ‘structure’) or done in an environment where the belief is that it’s difficult. It’s not. It’s nothing special. Doing it well or for a certain goal is a wholly different thing but before one can do any of that, one needs to get to the action first. And how do you get started with writing? That one sports company said it well: you just do it.