“Are you materialistic? As an adult you can start making money. Are you civic-minded? You can vote. Do you want to drown the memories of your terrible childhood? You can drink. Do you want to make money, but in a faster, slightly more dishonest way? You can gamble, or buy a gun. You can also look at boobies or, if you’re a lady, you can have them all to yourself. Yes, being an adult is awesome.” – that’s what every child thinks.
So did I.
‘Cause, Being an adult is so cool. I thought. Told my age 5 years older than reality. I did. To grow up faster. I wanted. Little did I know… adulthood is short lived. Between 18 to 26 really. Then comes this innate sense of responsibility, achievement, – “what the f**k am I doing with my life even!!!”-kinda existentialist crisis.
Bills. Rent. Health insurance. And oh my goodness gracious me – taxes. And that nincompoop tax office woman who fucked up verbal agreement cause she was behaving like “Quick-gun-Murugun” on Ecstasy (MDA or better known as: 3,4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine) at work – letting power get to her ever-so-shrinking brain!
Life goes fast. You run to catch up with the sun and then out of nowhere one day you meet your closest buddy for 6dl of wine and two Amaretto-Sour, both of you are drunk, walking down to Zürich HB ShopVille and buy WC tabs/perfume.
She buys 3 of the same and you tell her: “no! You must buy 3 different ones cause it is so much Fun”.
You see, children take food for granted, except perhaps those hungry kids in commercials late at night who need your money: we all call it charity but look… how many of you are truly charitable? I have a T-shirt shop that donates and books that donated proceeds – how many adults truly bought anything from me? They’d rather 50-shades-of-grey than the-girl-child-by-DeBDubois; or even shop at threadless from my store cause – responsibility towards society vs secret garden – secret garden wins!!! Always! Responsibility? It’s not fun!
Yes. No one told you about that time when you meet your friend and your evening is over by 9pm, ending up buying WC tabs, waterproof mascara, hairband and almond milk. Prepping for next morning and for breakfast. Then you walk to the train discussing future plans, zen-boyfriends who can keep (us) hot-headed girlfriends calm, and baby… my baby boy. And all I want to do then is hop on to the train and get back home to my two loves. All she wants then is walk to her apartment close to Langstrasse (Zürich’s Langstrasse!! Party central!!) and snuggle up in her warm bed. Sigh.
That’s adulting. When Grinch starts to make sense, you are stranger than they think, and buying WC tabs are fun.
ANTHROPOLOGY OF LOVE 