When I was younger and dumber, I worried about stupid shit. Now I'm less young and less dumb and I worry about different stupid shit. I might even be dumber than I was before. I'm less mature and far less self-conscientious for certain. My brain cell could just fizzle out. I can't remember things like I used to, and I'm only twenty seven. I haven't even really started my life yet, and every morning I have to gradually remind myself who I am, what I do, and what I did the day before. That last one is the hardest part.
I feel like my life hasn't really started yet because I'm mentally solidified to future plans that will, in my imagination, take me from nothing to something. And every day, in my mind, all of these plans will start tomorrow because today is a horse I already shot in the face. If I would spend less time talking to myself and more time making shit happen I would be a lot further than I am (in the subjective sense of being somewhere in the intangible modern-day success story).
I think about my past, and it all just feels like a beta test to the actual thing that is supposed to be my life and my long list of achievements and experiences. I'm starting to realize how useless future plans are. Too many unforeseeable variables hinder a blueprint for life. I have no idea what the world is going to look like tomorrow. Nor do I know what I'll feel like doing.
In an economy like this, when trends are always shifting from one to the next, I think I'm supposed to keep up with the changes in jobs, technology, and pop culture, and then I forget to enjoy what I'm in while I'm in it. I'm too scared to be spontaneous because if I am, it might get in the way of something else I could be doing to make my plan work. I'm so busy planning out my rat-race hamster-wheel mixed-metaphor life-plan that the present just floats by and all I have is my to-do list and a five-year plan. Plans are like boyfriends, they're nice to have, but don't marry them. There will be one, and then another one, and then another one.
I never planned to become a street art photographer. I just started doing it one day, and I'm not even good. But I'll keep doing it. It has become a staple in my life. It motivates me to go for a walk or a bike ride or explore a new part of town—all without making plans to do it. It's something I enjoy enough that I just do it. It balances out all the other stresses in my life and things I have to do that I don't actually enjoy doing. And it might end up more fruitful than any of the things I plan to do.
Catfish in the Mud
I went to Namibia and took a tour of Sossusvlei, where it hasn't rained in 6 years. The river is completely dried up. My guide told me that even in the six-year drought, catfish are hibernating deep down in the mud and will surface again when the rains come back and restore life to the desert. I didn't believe him at first, like I didn't believe in the mysterious fairy circles on the dunes. But now the idea of catfish in the mud has become a metaphor for the things trapped on the inside and down below that wait for the rains to give them some vigor and life. Catfish in the Mud is a pretty standard millennial blog in which I say mostly nothing in about 300 words.