I’m a sucker for clicking on blog posts ordered into “lists.”
It’s so bad, you guys. I hardly ever like them. Those “how-to-be-twenty-something” lists from Thought Catalog are particularly tempting. “Yes! A guru! Go ahead, stranger on the internet, tell me how to do this right!”
I know they capitalize on my insatiable desire for direction. I know these things are rarely entertaining, never mind enlightening. I know I’m being lazy, looking for life lessons in bite-sized, unemotional lists. I know all that, but I still give the articles a shot every time because–“What if they know something I don’t know?! What if they have the secret?!”
Unfortunately, the list-ers rarely give me the shot back. They don’t leave room for another right answer. Lists are facts, rules, and deadlines. They are filled with fluffy and contradictory advice, seemingly thrown together by the same eighteen year old on ego-steriods:
Be vulnerable and emotionally available in everything…but don’t go falling in love or expressing your feeling, kiddies. Get your shit together, and do it now…or tomorrow, tomorrow works too. Screw society…oh, but be gentle, you might need to use it later.
To save you the reading, I’ll sum ALL the articles up for you:
Build yourself, and be self-aware. Keep calm. Everything in moderation. Be good to people. Be good to yourself.
Outside of those pseudo-commandments, I’m beginning to think that there is very little deep advice that we can fit into lists like that. I also think that one-size-fits all advice is rarely a good call, especially in the twenty-something circuit. After all, this is the period in your life where you’re supposed to be learning how to question rules and step-by-step guides, not blindly march towards them. This is the time to realize how different everyone is, and how the same everyone is, and how relative everything is.
How do you list out the ideal reaction to any of that?
You don’t. You twist through your own complicated, beautiful story of “LET’S JUST TRY THIS.” Sometimes you will find friends to join you, even if it’s just for a night. Sometimes you’ll like them, sometimes you won’t. Sometimes you’ll like yourself, sometimes you won’t.
And sometimes it will work. And sometimes it won’t.
These lists try to make things logical, when they are not. I think that’s what kills me. They try to sell us on the idea that there is a right and wrong way to do things, when there are about a million of both. The ambiguity of “twenty-something” territory is far better suited to awkward songwriting, 2 am storytime, uncomfortably honest prayers, and radically number-less blog posts.
So what, then, are lists good for? They certainly make sense for practical stuff. Studying tips. How to navigate University. Finding an apartment. Cleaning your kitchen. Planning a trip. Getting a job. Quick tips, man.
I have a few of those myself. Perhaps I will write a list some time.
But it won’t be a list that tells you how to feel about your life. It won’t be a list of premature “tips” which are really just jaded rants, personal regret, and #humblebrags.
(Unless the regret is genuinely practical. Like, say, don’t go a year without glasses if you really need glasses. Or, don’t buy a shitty laptop.)
I hope that you can be a blogger without having to pretend you know everything–or worse, having to pretend you can put that “everything” into a list. I hope imperfect people and listless lifestyles can fit into the conversation, because…well, because imperfect people and listless lifestyles are the definition of Conversation. And Conversation is what we really need, isn’t it?
Perhaps Sarah Bessey put it best:
I’m not too interested in telling anyone else how to live their lives anymore, let alone in six steps with a pinnable graphic.
Yeah. I’m not too interested in that, either. But I sure am interested in talking about it, and hearing about it, and writing about my tiny/young/fallible/idealistic corner of it. And maybe, sometimes, that will fit into a list.
But, mostly, my life isn’t about quick tips. Neither is yours. It’s about celebrating and mourning, sometimes at the same time. It’s about getting confused and getting the giggles. It’s the word “Oops,” and it’s the word “Love,” and it’s feeling unsure.
And I’m sorry, but there’s no number on any of that.