The cult of the individual pervades every corner of modern life. We are all expected to be talented unique glimmers of astounding individualism. We are knowledge seekers, trend setters, interior designers, carefully crafting our own unique story, our own unique image. We create novelty, we are interesting, notable in our difference. When alone, we read obscure texts, or the current zeitgeist. We are up to date with current events, current tv, current film, current music. We play music, or sew, or paint, or knit, or crochet, or all of these things. We do these things to a professional standard. We post (professional standard) photographs online of ourselves drinking the newest microbrewery creations before anybody else, and the following morning post photographic evidence that we are better than hangovers, instead we are half way up a mountain. Every meal we eat is a gourmet extravaganza worthy of a Michelin star. When in company, we are casually well dressed, erudite, sparkling witty company, neither tee total, nor embarrassingly drunk. We travel to Asia, Iceland, anywhere considered off the standard tourist trail.
Fuck off. We aren't. Sometimes we are just people. Most of the time we are just people. We aren't good at everything. Sometimes we're creative, sometimes we're not. And it's okay not to be. I have no desire to impress anyone who is only interested in me because of my knitting habit, or my penchant for wearing corsets furtively under hoodies. If I read a book, it's because I want to read it, not because it's on someone's list of texts belonging to a canon of cool.
Mostly, I do not have the time in the day to keep up to date with all this stuff.
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