flow state through synth
consumerism and love and everything americana; i know nothing better
This piece of writing is prompted by three things that have happened recently:
Dry January (in which I have to make sure everyone knows I’m doing it)
Re-discovering Pokemon Shield and consequently playing 15 hours over the past three days
Acknowledging for the first time that I actually really do not like Pilates
Not that any of these on a microcosmic scale are really connected at all, but the first month of 2025 has rung in a liquidation of B-side personality traits that I thought I had. Wholesale, donation, alterations and hems allowed! And I’ll say it: real Pilates is BORING! Everyone looks stupid while you’re on the reformer, even when you’re wearing an Alo Yoga set! It’s all a marketing ploy designed to faux-elevate your fitness game!
At the crux of these deliberations, though, is this question: just how much of a consumer am I? The biggest stressor of my life last week was that the Tiktok ban had effectively destroyed my meticulously curated Tiktok shop cart and algorithm. How was I to order my semi-permanent false lashes in style Fairy now?
There is a growing sense in myself that I want to be above it all (the grime and mechanics of being contained in a meat sack with super-strong meat desires). I mentioned in a previous post how I wanted to live slowly, to live softly, but in practice, it’s a little less doable when my brain is addicted to every sort of dopamine kick that’s accessible in New York City. I have a clear memory of when I first moved to my apartment on Orchard Street. I walked by a shitty souped-up truck (first of all — a truck?) with a bumper sticker slinging this following quote: If you ain’t first, you’re last. Yuck. Feels worse now to re-read this Trumpian rhetoric. Good reminder though: I began running and doing Pilates more insistently.
But this dogging fear of needing to win, this sensational ecstasy of winning at life, has been so carefully cultivated in a purely American way that I can’t see any picture beyond it sometimes. Americana, our national identity, the folklore of individualism, is (I think) too deeply derivative of the suffering of others. A winner begets a loser. Can we even begin to celebrate something like this What do you need to win at life? (Answer: for most, it doesn’t look like living at peace with the easy life). My mom has never seemed to have an issue with choosing this — in fact, she has always embraced it. On the other hand, I think I was born to my father’s blood.
Some thoughts on constant upgrading:
Buy these clothes recommended to you by the your favorite micro-influencers. This bodysuit will make your waist impossibly small at the small sacrifice of eating meals comfortably.
Follow the noise on the latest makeup/fashion styles, but never be too mainstream (try to be an early adopter). You know that if you wear those leopard-print micro-shorts in a month, everyone will know you’re just a stupid trend-follower. The advertisements will never stop.
Reject fast fashion, but only in a way that’s still cool and self-aware.
Quiet luxury is over.
Pick a hobby that’s a little esoteric but not too much, so that way it doesn’t feel almost like cultural appropriation in the even that it becomes mainstream.
Critique what you can in the bounds of the cultural flow that you swim in so that you sound well-read. Read to at least one newspaper.
Work out so you can debate the ROI of barre vs. Solidcore vs. lifting in terms of arm bulkiness to seeing your abs.
Reduce and reduce and boil your feelings down to a science. Pathologize everything. Categorize, split, create your metrics, be SMART! Buy less, be minimal!
Remember: it’ll make you better. It’ll make you more loved if you Build Your Personal Brand. Everything you do will make you feel more whole.
Winning doesn’t even end up particularly correlated to our happiness. Olivia Butler said once (through the perspective of aliens) that our biggest flaw is that we are both intelligent and hierarchical at the same time. How to gain power, then; pair ambition with sacrifice so that someday we can possess a small godhood of our own in this overwhelming monotheistic world.
I also keep coming back to the idea of awe: what is the use of awe? Why is it held in reserve for us? We listen to music on road trips, we develop Christian and pagan religions, we look upwards to the sky to see the Aurora Borealis — we see green and pink streak the night sky to hope to feel something more. Mango, I don’t think you look outside the living room windows and see God in the trees. The triad of emotions that should, in theory, should be the end goal for all of us is to perpetually feel contentment, awe, and happiness. This is usually all already implicitly known, but good to lay out nonetheless.
At one point do you think: enough! I am enough where I am! The burning desire to constantly receive extrinsic rewards, a quantifiable increase in success (let’s go dopamine rush!), is a directly reflective mirror of American justification to exist and a Protestant work ethic — both of which I am diametrically opposed to. With these frameworks that are not mine, there is no way to judge the strength of one’s character, the ability to love and practice gratitude. There is no worth or reward to lifting up those around you — you cannot tax a mother’s love in picking up the socks I left out, or my grandparents creating a garden for my family. To discover what is satiating about being alive, rather than looking to the next hierarchal comparison, is an axis shift I struggle with. Most of my “countercultural” efforts eventually lead me exactly to where I started.
Along with my search for awe, there’s this sense of escapism — I am tired of keeping up with the latest executive order. Another Instagram story post of a panelist explaining why companies should “be AI-first”… as opposed to what? Us? I do not particularly care if Sam Altman thinks that OpenAI should’ve been more open-source, but I keep up with it anyways. Because I vie for more, and I still seek greatness in merit.
Another list (I certainly am list-heavy in this post), this time describing the ways in which I fall:
I can’t help the thrill of posting a selfie with my new lashes
Or when someone buys me a drink because I look conventionally pretty
Making petty remarks about someone’s life choices
I go back to my hereditary traits all the time. I am a product of my environment! I love pretty things and buying and being a girl. But, still: taking baby steps to embrace a different meaning and a different game. So here is one last list to end this post:
How to detach:
Create not to compete, but to engage in meaningful work (which is why I refuse to take part in the creator economy and instead spend an entire day writing to myself/shouting to a group of 12 people subscribed to this blog)
Find fulfillment in connection rather than ranking — i.e. please text me if you want to play Switch games with me, as I’ve also quickly dropped my Pokemon obsession
Go on walks and look at the sky
Happy February!