Relevant
“You are not special. You are not a beautiful or unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else”.
Tyler Durden’s memorably aggressive speech to the Space Monkeys in Fight Club has been stuck in my head all weekend, since a friend quoted it to me in recent conversation. You can choose to look at the mindset this quote inspires as extremely nihilistic, or insanely motivating. Being a relentlessly half full cup person (ironically), I’m obviously going to go with the latter. What’s been on my mind a lot recently is the concept of relevance, and am I, and is anyone, and is there even any point in being relevant anyway? #Iso has seen a surge of shameless self promotion in all of it forms; look at my body, do this workout, see me thrive, watch me lift…sound familiar? Yeah, coz it’s me, and you, and 99% of Instagram. Basically, in a time when we haven’t been able to get physical pats on the back, likes and follows have taken their place as our main source of validation.
I recently completed the ‘Love Languages’ test with my boyfriend. You know, the one that tells you what you value and respond to the most in a relationship. According to this test, my number one most important love language was ‘verbal affirmations’, meaning basically that I crumble if I’m not relentlessly told that I’m amazing, beautiful, strong, perfect…you name it, I need it. I asked my psychologist recently if this could be changed somehow, as I’m fairly embarrassed by the fact that I need to be smothered in love and compliments on the regular to maintain any semblance of self esteem, but unfortunately, I’m stuck being a needy, attention seeking bitch. I don’t know how I am this person, as I don’t remember being told how fucking epic I was as a child, but somewhere along the way, the thirst for validation has seeped in and now, if you don’t tell me I’m strong and smart and pretty, I’ll curl up into a pathetic ball of self pity with Graham and a tub of Over the Moo chocolate ice-cream with chocolate sauce and new ‘improved’ brownie chunks.
My official needy bitch status does somewhat explain my desire to put my life on display and think that people give a shit. I can’t even remember how I validated myself before social media, but it doesn’t seem that long ago that people’s shamelessness was relatively contained, before selfies and Snapchat and filters and followers. You know, the good old days when you called your best friend or your parents when something cool happened, rather than posting it on Instagram and getting heart eye emojis from strangers and a guy who ghosted you after two dates back in 2017 but inexplicably just started following you and liking all of your photos. This quick and easy means of achieving validation has lead us to believe that our existence is meaningful and that we have something to offer that no one else does. The direct result of having hundreds of accolades literally at our fingertips has lead us to mistakenly think that what we do, think and say is relevant. In a world where everyone else is doing the same fucking thing though, how can it be?
How do you achieve relevance when there’s a million other ‘unique’ snowflakes out there? How can you be original and share your message and be the change and make a difference and be authentic and noticed and validated and….just stop. You can’t. Because you’re not those things. You may need to read the first sentence of this piece again, if it didn’t quite hit home the first time. If you can’t be fucked scrolling back up, let me brutally paraphrase Tyler: You are not special. Nothing you do matters. I’m not being an asshole, I’m in the same boat, melting into a cold, muddy puddle with all the other #instagood ‘snowflakes’. OK, so maybe I’m a bit of an asshole. I really do think though that accepting you aren’t special is incredibly empowering, because it means you can stop fucking trying to be.
This fairly recent realisation means that I no longer give a fuck if people think I’m mental or motivating, funny or pathetic, attractive or terrifying. I’m not trying to shock, or enchant, or inspire. I’m not trying to be anything, anymore. If I’m contentious it’s because I genuinely don’t agree with something, and if I support someone or something it’s because I 100% believe in that thing or person. My opinions are mine, my words are real, and my conversations are un-edited. Whether what I have to offer the universe is relevant or not, it doesn’t matter, because it’s fucking genuine. I’m not going to pretend I like you when I don’t, and I’m not going to act like my life, my actions and my values are any different than what they are.
I’m not a unique and beautiful snowflake, I’m a misshapen snowball with bits of gravel and dirt stuck in it, that’s likely to draw blood or break a window… and that’s way fucking cooler. Now like my post and tell me I’m pretty.
