Who Are You?
The question of who are you? Strikes me every year when I return home to the city I grew up. Every year I seem to slip a little further and further down the rabbit hole, so to speak…
I don’t mean this in conspiracy theorist terms. No, I mean this in regards to the fact that every year away I gain more knowledge of the world. I’m much more in touch with the way things really work. I become less and less of the millennial who is told they know everything, can do everything, and are super special snowflakes.
No, instead I realize that I am still a young man, and I am still a fool.
DO YOU RECOGNIZE YOURSELF?
My returns home are eye-opening because I see no progress being made. I return and see people, who I have not seen for an entire calendar year, and they are the exact same person that they were one year ago. How boring of a life is that?
To never see the world, to never have the chance. To wake up each day and not live like it’s not last, but rather—to live each day exactly like the day that you just lived before. And with no hope to escape that whirlpool of reality. Some people have this desire to live forever. I don’t. If I die at 70 years old I’ll do so with pride, knowing I YOLO’d each and every day.
Most can’t say this.
MILLENIAL FINE WHINE
The other striking thing is how whiny our culture has become. I’m in position to argue about this, because I used to whine about everything myself. As I wrote earlier this year when my grandfather died—he was trying to toughen me up. To make sure I didn’t grow up to be a sissy. To make sure I had a shot in the world. I had a long talk with my uncle this weekend, and he was excited that I’d finally realized this. I do wish I could tell him, but he was too far gone to understand.
I return home and it’s just…pathetic.
I have no other words. A life of being upset by the world around you is a life that will always be unhappy. The world is damn screwed up place. She does not give a crap about you, who you are, or your feelings. She is the toughest bitch out there in the world, and she can’t be gamed.
And yet my generation seems dead set on conquering her by whining about everything and claiming they’re offended. These people born a few years after me are in for an incredibly harsh reality check when they leave the sheltered life. That life used to be college, but with the culture at college firmly intact with this thinking—it’s what comes after.
Who are you?
Moving abroad was probably the best thing I ever did. It verified exactly who I wanted to become and what I needed to make it happen. You are always going to be a product of your environment. People born in the ghetto are more likely to grow up and become ghetto themselves. While undoubtedly someone will be offended by that, it’s human nature. Facts of life.
Wherever you develop, that environment shapes you.
Being abroad made me realize that, yes—I want to do a hot, beautiful woman who cooks and cleans and is damn happy to do so and please me. I’ve thought that for years of course. Some of my American girlfriends turned into half-decent girls once I’d fucked them hard enough and long enough.
Dating Ukrainian women changed that a lot. It verified who I was and my desires as a man.
So did all of the travels, adventures, and stories. So did breaking free of the corporate life. It truly made me realize that the world is my oyster. That I didn’t need to be constrained by a shackle thrown on me by someone older than me who is a fool.
I learned that thinking and building for yourself is a scary thing. But that the only way to see if you can do it is just to jump in and hope for the best.
So—who are you?