Tag Archives: family

Just blogging, Society

Get yourself a life

You probably noticed by now that I like spending time on social media, especially instagram. I also like stalking people I find interesting online – see where they live, try to find out what the odds are that we become best friends. And that’s why I always read people’s bios. Sometimes, I also stalk people who left really dumb comments on someone’s picture, just to know who the person behind the stupid statement is. I guess this little fact about myself shows that I should get myself a life, but this blogpost is not about me. It’s about how other people see and describe themselves.

A few days ago, I came across two profiles that were really cool. Very cohesive feeds, great style, just everything I find nice to look at and maybe even inspiring. So of course, I thought about following them, but before, I had a look at their bios. The first one said “Wifey”, which is not uncommon on instagram, as is “bride to be”. The second bio read “pursuing him…”, something I’ve also read a couple of times already. Yikes!

I didn’t follow either of them. Instead, I was wondering why (at least some) women constantly define themselves through men or the relationships they have. Similar mentions to the bios I described above are bios such as “proud mommy” or “dog mom”, where it’s all about motherhood, whether that’s to a dog or a kid.

So when you’re creating an account on a platform where you can let all your narcissism out, why would you make it about someone else? I get it, you’re very proud to have a boyfriend and you constantly need to remind people that you’re oh so happy in your relationship or marriage because you can’t even believe it yourself. You love your dog to the point that you can ignore the fact that the little perv spends most of the day licking its balls and wants your supervision when pooping. You’re probably about to edit a pic that shows your dog’s nasty tongue in your face in this exact moment. And yes, of course you love your kids. You love them so much that you don’t give a shit about their privacy,  because after all, your pushed them out of your vag and that’s such a freaking miracle. Like one that has never happened before. So why would you keep these things private?
And of course I can also understand that you want all that, the happy happy, picture perfect family, but somehow, it just hasn’t happened for you yet and so you want to make sure you spread the word that you’re single. Sure, you’ve heard many times that you come across as aggressive or even creepy, but they just don’t understand what it means to be a true romantic. I know, it’s hard to accept when your crush doesn’t like you back and that giving, ahem, … subtle… hints on social media will magically have him infatuated, I mean how couldn’t he be, your photos are so pretty! After all, it’s what the fortune teller told you. AND HOW COULD PEOPLE DARE CALL YOU DESPERATE WHEN YOU’RE CLEARLY NOT!!!

I know, I know, you’re a strong independent woman and you need no man or whatever. But darling, please act like it. It’s ok to put yourself first from time to time, even if that means posting pictures of your Skinny Latte instead of your dog. If you like latte pictures, go for it. People are tired of seeing your dog, anyway. Take time to do stuff that only benefits you instead of pleasing others. In short: Go get yourself a life! One that passes the Bechdel Test.

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Just blogging

Are you raising a serial killer?

one of my favorite books this year is ‘When To Rob A Bank’ by the Freakonomics creators Steven  D. Levitt and Stepehen J. Dubner. I love it not only describes moments of our everyday life from an economic perspective, but also – and mostly – because it’s just very entertaining and covers a huge variety of topics. So one of the chapters was about how to name your kids, or rather, how NOT to name them. So far, that’s been one of my favorite chapters, because I truly believe that your personality and your name go hand in hand and that your name kinda predicts what character traits someone will develop. Have you ever had a moment where you were at a party where you didn’t know anyone and before you were introduced to people, you guessed their names? Sometimes, you can just tell if someone’s a Peter or a Mick or a Simone or a Lexy (or even Lexie) just by looking at how they interact with other people (and according to Barney Stinson, how slutty they are).
The name discussed in the Freakonomics article is Wayne, not as a first name, but as a middle name. Beautiful headline, too: The Perils Of Wayne. Apparently, it’s quite a dangerous thing to give your kid the middle name Wayne. As a reader of the Freakonomics blog pointed out, Wayne is the most common middle name among criminals, for example Chicago’s serial killer John Wayne Gacey Jr. If you want to read the original blog post (which I highly recommend bc I can’t stop fangirling), it’s right here.
According to the article, middle names that rhyme with Wayne are equally dangerous. And this immediately made me think of a friend who just became a dad somewhat recently. And guess what, his son’s middle name rhymes with Wayne. Now I don’t think that just because of a name his son will become a serial killer, at least I hope he won’t. But when I read this, I almost wanted to text him and ask if it was too late to change it. Well, I didn’t. It’s not my place and I also highly doubt that a blog post can change any parent’s mind. Why else would there be kids called Apple, Mowgli and Rocket? However, I do hope that this little kid will not follow the name path that’s been laid out for him. And as for all the other kids, I hope they’ll either make a living as creative people or have the patience to go through the all the bureaucrazy necessary in order to change their names.

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Culture, Lifestyle

Changes

And it’s Sunday again. It came so suddenly. The last couple of days just flew by. Maybe the last week seemed to pass by so fast because I mostly stuck to my daily routine, consisting of working out, my job and my blog. And seeing friends, of course. Recently, one of my friends came back from a few months travel and so we have been hanging out to catch up. She told me about all the amazing countries she visited, the awesome people she’d met and that she actually didn’t want to come back to Paris. (As a matter of fact, she’s only staying two weeks before flying back to Australia.) She said that people here would probably still have the same jobs, still live in the same place, still have the same troubles in their relationships. Well, although things might not be as boring as that, I do see her point.

After having had a drunk night out yesterday, I went for a walk this afternoon. Looking at the remaining Christmas decoration in the streets, seeing people getting rid of their Christmas tree which finally started to shed it’s needles, I suddenly became oddly aware of how transient everything is and that at the same time, nothing changes. One year just went by and I hardly noticed it. Sure, there have been quite some changes, I realized it as soon I was writing a long letter to someone I haven’t seen since 2013. It might be the fact that I’m turning 25 this year and that I’m about to have a quarter century crisis, but today made me questioning how much I have achieved in life so far.

On Sundays, people take their kids to the park or go see the grandparents, twenty-somethings go home to have lunch with their families, students who came to Paris for their studies are spending the last day of the weekend at home in the suburbs before taking the train back to the city. On Sundays, people take a break from the usual, everyday’s rush. They take the time to go for a stroll or for visiting a museum. On Sundays, everything seems to pause.

Sundays used to make me feel restless and I’m just slowly learning to appreciate them as a day which I can absolutely dedicate to myself. But sometimes, looking at the other park visitors makes me having second thoughts about my life. I awkwardly notice that my mum had already had me when she had the same age. After finishing her studies with successfully, she had found a stable job which gave her enough security and already founded a family. By that time, she was totally independent from her parents.

As for me, I dropped out of university, I don’t have any degree. I worked in the food service industry for a couple of years before getting a better paid job in an e-commerce enterprise. But I surely couldn’t provide for an imaginary kid, I couldn’t even get a cat. The last time I asked my mum to help me out financially is not that long ago and I also still live with my flatmate, which is great, but nevertheless, I think sharing a flat is something that you should only do for a certain period of time. As always, there are also exceptions, of course. But thinking of the people in their mid-thirties I’ve met and who still shared a flat, I know that I definitely do not want to make this my lifestyle.

In the 19th century men were considered as men as soon as they were able to grow a beard or go to war. Women got married at the age of 20 to 22 and often became mothers shortly afterwards.

I remember how weird I found it when the boys I went to school with suddenly started talking about doing their military service. And the girl who was the first one of our year to get married surely surprised me. So what makes us become adults, nowadays? When is the moment that we’re able to say “Now, my life is settled”?

Taking into account how fast our society changes and that there are so many more possibilities and career choices than 200 or even 20 years ago, it’s normal that finding oneself and being able to build one’s independent future has become a much longer process.

The good thing is that I won’t be able to do crazy things like buying a sports car until I figure out my next professional and personal steps. I can save that for my midlife-crisis. Maybe I will have my driver’s licence by then.

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