In the past couple of weeks I haven’t accomplished much (study wise) because Netflix exists and The Front Door opened a new Gin bar and now I’m stressing out a little, but that’s okay. I mean, I’m not entirely proud of my addictive personality and tendency to procrastinate/binge, but I’m okay with it. I’m okay with me. You see, something strange happened to me recently, and I think we need to talk about it.
It was a regular morning in the life of the Tull-Meister. A regular morning, until the mirror.
*Example of regular morning in life of Tull-Meister: Wake up with beautiful Italian ride of a man beside me, and an even more beautiful dawn outside my huge window. Feel totally rested, all set for anything or anyone the day can throw at me. Jump out of my king sized bed, ready for my fifty minutes of morning yoga with Pier (French personal trainer/life guru). Take shower in my all marble bathroom. (The bathroom is the size of an average childhood bedroom, and I love the way my angelic voice echoes off the marble when I sing….)*
I think I was singing something Whitney Houston that morning, only a little better than her – but I can’t be sure, it was just a regular morning… As I looked at my wonderful blemish free skin in the mirror, I remember thinking: “Wow, I look incredible!! It must be all the delicious kale and other very green things that I absolutely love eating…”
Okay. So maybe I have been watching a little too much Netflix, and that is not exactly how a regular morning pans out for Tull-Meister… but it was indeed, a regular morning. Until the mirror.
So there I was. On this regular morning. Being my regular self. Ready to start my regular make-up and getting dressed in under seven minutes routine. It was a real Galway kind of morning – cold and crisp with potential of clearing, sleet with a chance of snow, with some sun threatening a heat wave. The toes on a pair of slightly scruffy boots peaked out longingly at me from the bottom shelf. I stared back pensively at them… It was what one may refer to as “having a moment”.
Like many things that have been deemed unstylish, the boots are a particularly comfortable boot, perfect for Galway weather – my elegant and stylish granny once called them “practical” in the special bubble-wrap way grannies have of never ever hurting our feelings. I have a very steady relationship with the boots. But, as I said – unstylish. I’m probably (definitely) not hipster enough to pull them off with the black New Look pinafore dress I was sporting.
But then it happened. I had another moment.
I took out the boots, put them on, and stood in front of the mirror. They looked slightly outrageous … I looked slightly outrageous. A smile grew on my face.
I don’t care, I thought. I DON’T CARE.
After the mirror incident, I danced out the door, and feeling lighter after my realisation, walked to college. Along the way, I looked down at my comfortable little feet and started to doubt myself … was I going a bit mad? Or even worse, was I turning into some kind of wanna-be hipster? I mean, I am extremely intelligent, witty and progressive… But I’m just not edgy enough to pull off the effortlessly cool look. And, even worse, my vision is perfect, and my budget is low – there is no way I could afford some thick rimmed glasses…
Was I simply getting too carried away with my liberal arts degree? Was I going to start telling people that I study “orts”, not “arts”? Was I going to grow a beard…?
I thought about turning back and changing into something a little more …mainstream, but I was already late and I was just so damn comfortable. Before I knew it, I was in college. And you will never guess what happened when I got in there….
It was just a regular day. I was studying “arts” in NUIG (where there is absolutely no dress code), I was comfortable, and I didn’t care. The more steps I took through NUIG campus in my magic boots, the less I cared.
The less I cared about the boots, the more time I had to care about what I was really in college for.
So, I decided to start applying my new way of life to everything I possibly could. Each day brought more and more things that I don’t care about to my attention… and now I am a truly enlightened being!
I decided to take a sabbatical from time sucking Instagram. I sat at the front of a philosophy lecture and asked questions. I declined an invitation to the college bar by simply telling the person “I don’t want to go”. I told somebody else to stop sending me “streaks” on snapchat, what age are we?! I didn’t smile at that ignorant bus driver. I wore gym leggings to do my grocery shopping – sure I may as well get the use out of them.
Basically, since that magic mirror moment of realising I don’t care anymore, my quality of life has improved. It sounds so basic – probably because it is- but, somewhere along the way, I was socially conditioned into caring about these irrelevant little things, and it seems I was wasting my time. Now, I haven’t reached the waking up with Mr. Italian, doing yoga and eating very green food all the time perfect life… In fact, I haven’t accomplished much more than finishing series on Netflix in the past few days, but I’m okay with all of that. I’m okay with me. Now that I have stopped wasting time caring about other silly things, I can afford a Netflix binge now and again.
You should try it. Tell me what you don’t care about.
(I’m joking – don’t tell me. I don’t care).