DELUSION, DISMAY, DISAPPOINTMENT . . .

So life is hard enough without adding undo pressure and expectations on top of all the regular pressure and expectations one has to endure in modern adult life. I’ve decided to take a radical step and refuse to succumb to the mass-marketing of yet another “essential” if one wants to be a paragon of the twenty-first century.

Oh, I’ve tried to conform to the rules of non-conformity― a confusing conundrum― which state: Embracing the unique sameness of the distinctive masses will ensure individuality in the crowd of common unconventionality. . . But this quest to be like everyone else, in a totally unique way, is a delusion of extreme proportions and I’m tired of trying to maintain the façade that I am a conventionally unconventional person. I am, in fact, so ordinary and average, I sometimes nod off in middle of my own inner musings. And I’m okay with that. I embrace my couch-potato, routine-loving, homebody-ness. I don’t need adventure. I don’t crave thrills. I don’t want to wake up in Moldavia with no recollection of how I got there.

This yearning to be extraordinary is the driving force behind the movement to not only be cool and wonderful in the present, but to outshine everyone else in a distant, most likely not happening future! Of what societal maelstrom do I speak? It is . . . the dreaded Bucket List. First, why a bucket? Buckets are not grand objects. They are used to haul manure. Second, this stuff is supposed to be private daydreams, not crusades tilting at unachievable and, often times, dangerous windmills. If we’re going to put this thing out there, let’s at least call it something more worthy and infinitely more accurate, such as: the Golden Ticket List, or the If My Boss Paid Me What I’m Worth List, or the Make Me Feel Like I’m Lazy And Unimaginative List.

Sure, I get it. We’re supposed to visualize the wild and crazy things we’d do if we had the time, the money and the cojones. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for having big dreams but I think this whole list thing has gotten out of hand. Climbing Mt. Everest? Going to the moon? Fast WIFI? Come on, it’s not happening. I’m not saying I don’t have a Bucket List. I’m not saying I do either. But if I did, it might look something like this:

1. Live to be 100. (Except for eating right and exercising― which is a bit dodgy already― this one is totally out of my control. And I’m not giving up brownies . . .)
2. Get some grand-kids. (Again, no control over this one. But I would settle for grand-puppies. . .)
3. Go skydiving. (Just kidding. There is no way I’m jumping out of a plane. Okay, if I make it to 100, I will . . . but not really.)
4. Win the Nobel Peace Prize. (This ain’t happening either but on the off chance it does, how cool would it be to cross a big, red line through it. . .)
5. Get out of debt. (Hahahahahahaha . . .)
6. By winning the lottery. (HAHAHAHAHAHA. . .)
7. Meet Betty Crocker and thank her for Dark Chocolate Brownies. (Since Betty Crocker is just a figment of some ad agent’s imagination, this too will never come to pass. But maybe some executive will find out what a huge fan I am and give me a lifetime supply. . .)

This last one is the only one I really care about. So if anyone out there has the ear of Ken Powell (the CEO of General Mills, duh) please put in a good word for me. Tell him I’d be ever so grateful and he would be welcome in my home at any time . . . you know, for brownies. . .

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