“Growin up, and that is a terribly hard thing to do. It is much easier to skip it and go from one childhood to another.”
―F. Scott Fitzgerald
In the past I’ve always been hyper-critical about “Blogs” and “Blogging.” I found it quite pretentious, the ramblings of a marginalized group that can’t possibly bear the fact that the world won’t hear their profound ideas. While I wouldn’t necessarily say I’ve changed my belief, nor would I deny the fact that I’m probably included in that aforementioned group, I’ve decided to give blogging a chance.
My intention for this blog isn’t to create some alternate identity far removed from reality that attempts to trick people into thinking my life is great. I don’t want to share with the world my wonderful life and breathtaking experience and oh the places I’ll go (yes it was a Dr. Seuss reference). Actually, on the contrary, this is probably leaning more towards the realm of self-deprecation. I have a quite a fragile sense of self and my life is riddled with irrational anxiety. I’ve become quite accustomed at fooling the world into thinking everything’s ok and the majority of those who know me, or think they know me, merely know the character I play. Few know the real me. Frankly, this blog goes against every notion of self-preservation I have but I feel like its time to face this fear. This isn’t an attempt to gain pity nor do I find it my duty to report on the plight of the privileged young white male on the cusp of adulthood. This isn’t an American Beauty or Ordinary People expose on how suburbia breeds discontent. Rather, its just a fragment, a snapshot perhaps would be more appropriate, of a coming of age story.
My motivations for writing this blog are rather simple. I’ve experienced what has turned out to be a rather elongated period of depression. My life is characterized by ups and downs but this down appears to be here to stay, at least for now. For the first time since I got sober I feel this gaping void in my life, growing bigger and bigger each day. I’m attempting to use this blog as a medium to both express a semi-satirical dissatisfaction with the current state of my life and share some culture with others. In addition, I’m really quite bored and could use a hobby.
The title of the blog comes from another F. Scott Fitzgerald quote. The full quote is “The compensation of a very early success is a conviction that life is a romantic matter. In the best sense one stays young.” I picked this for a few reasons. The first is the irony as most of what I write is dripping with existentialism. The second is the notion of staying young. This is a time in my life where I’m supposed to be growing up and yet I’m so desperately clinging to this idea of childhood and innocence. Mind you, this isn’t because I had some sort of magical childhood. In truth, my childhood was probably similar to yours, filled with self-doubt, uncertainty, anxiety and confusion. In fact, I repress most of my childhood and my clearest memories don’t start until after I got sober, where I experienced a rebirth so to speak. I cling to my childhood not because I long for it, but because I don’t want to grow up. This is primarily motivated by fear. Fear of failure, fear of responsibility, fear of never being happy. Writing for me is a way to delay the inevitable, a way of blocking the future out, of making it seem so far off that I need not worry about it. Writing makes me feel ok.