why couldn't we have flushing toilets and hot water but also live in a barter society where 3 cows are good for 17 chickens or a small house? when did we decide to give our lives away to the highest bidder? when did cubicles start to seem like a really good idea? why do we have to sign and sign and initial and sign each and every time we want to enact a small change in our lives? why can't one get married under the moon without it having fucking tax implications? why does the birth of a child necessitate an immediate start of a lifelong paper trail? why can't we enjoy refrigeration and modern medicine without being saddled with the overwork-and-consumption machine?
sure, you say, you can step off the merry-go-round. but you can't. you can choose to live a smaller life. you can choose to work less, play more, sit and stare at trees for hours at a time, but you cannot get away entirely unless you become a hermit or one of those crazy colorado survivalists, though even then i'm sure there'd be forms to fill out and waivers to sign. sure, you can reduce the shit impact, but you can't entirely get away from it. and the worst part is, there's no incentive for us to adult. oh sure, getting shitfaced on a saturday night in order to forget is definitely on the menu, but within a couple years (or decades) you realise it's not really making anything better but a few things, like your liver, actively worse. kids get marks, gold stars, ribbons, stickers, and funny-shaped erasers. what do adults get? a plump tax return if we're lucky.
i would hereby like to lodge a complaint about the lack of incentivization* in adult life. why don't we get badges to honour on-time tax completion? why don't we amass brownie points for staying sober at a spouse's christmas party? why doesn't someone get me a freaking pony because, despite many many moments of deep temptation, i have not upped my meds once!!!??? i think that deserves a fucking medal along with the pony! a stamp card for all those times we ordered the salad instead of the fries! a sticker for filling in the time sheet at work! blue ribbon for deciding to cook instead of eating out! a big thumbs up on social media for folding the laundry... i could go on.
a small child who's just been punished for misbehaviour will turn to mom who very often is the very person that just meted out said punishment. who do grown-ups have to run to? we have nobody to kiss our damn booboos and tell us everything will be better, because we know it won't. we know that the moment one bill is paid, another is on the way. we know that the superawesomegreat purchase will become far less superawesomegreat when the credit card bill comes along. we know on friday that monday cometh with the inevitability of eventual blindness, decrepitude, and death. so if it's alright with you, i'd like to at least have a motherfucking gold star.
*heinous corporate speak.