I have romanticized and glamorized every fucking moment of it, and still am. When I rode the bus for one hour to get to work, I experienced it like a meditation. When I shared a room with my sister for 20 years, I made my wall the most āmeā arrangement of ever-changing collages and worshipped it. I focused on this, not the twin bed with the sinking mattress, or the snoring sister, or the lack of privacy. When I lived in a living room, I made that shit look like a bohemian studio and photographed its finest corners, in a constant quest for compartmentalized beauty. When I could never afford a car, I romanticized my life as someone free of the LA hustle, free of the bounds of hunting for parking, free of the bounds of a giant, gas-guzzling object.
When I couldnāt go to college, I reminded myself of the broken system, the capitalistic nature of the USA, the new opportunities of the information age, the freedom of an artistā¦. and chose to stand in the light of the irony of being written about in a Harvard publication, or invited to speak at Lewis & Clarke college. The nightmares still come, though, or, the stress about when itās a good time to reveal to my date, who has a masters, that I justā¦ took a handful of classes at community college until my financial aid ran out. But, Iām like, good, still! I think. I guess we will see, right?
As I watched my parents live in constant fear - of rent being raised, of objects breaking, of getting sick, of getting in a car accident ā¦ and not because of the pain, but because of the money, I saw that their immense fear did not change the situation, but it did steal joy. I chose to step out of the fear, and even though it creeps in sometimes, it is not my default rhythm.
I have lead a life of life hacks, of illusions, of corners of beauty, of design. I have chosen to see the sheer creativity in limitation, and not just in art, but the creativity required to carry out a lifestyle. I have chosen this, I have chosen this, I have chosen this. Over and over again. And I still do, every single day.
With that being said, it is hard to live in a political climate that demands I curse the system that put myself and my family in these positions. When I look back, I donāt see a sob story, and yet, I am demanded to, especially when faced with someone challenging my identity. I donāt want to. I want to maintain the mindset that got me where I am now, the eager underdog that could make any corner sparkle with truth and a deep-seeded gratitude for every inch.Ā A coping mechanism that turned into an entire lifestyle, an entire mission.
I donāt want to stop and look back and see the dark side. I donāt want to shake my fists at the sky. I donāt want to curse the rich. I donāt want to blame a system I donāt understand and donāt know how to fix. I donāt want to take stock of what I have and what someone else has.
I donāt want to recycle the narrative that makes me small again, to comfort someone who doesnāt understand why my spirit is so big.
The spirit does not need a marble floor and a safety net to rejoice. The spirit doesnāt need a pristine college education or healthcare to revel in the gorgeous mysteries of life. The spirit can worship even when the body has nothing. When you live in a physical reality that has no stability or excess, you fill a lot of that space with invisible treats. And you know what, I love it here.
And why does this all get to me?
Because to attack my intentions and hold a magnifying glass to my identity, is to ask - āWhat do you deserve?ā
and this is a question I refuse to ask myself anymore.
jbbartram-illu
prguitarman
pixelskylines
theartofmadeline
izzy806
dailybridgerton
turnnoffyourmind
