(Originally posted September 12, 2018)
I don’t really know the age group that reads my posts. But, in case you are a young person like me—and you feel stressed out and worried and anxious about your future—I have something to tell you.
People have no idea what they are doing.
Your parents. Your teachers. People on the street. They only know what they bothered to learn. People are talented and knowledgeable, sure—but on only certain things.
Something no one has worked out perfectly is how to be a human on earth.
You can’t specialize in that—there are too many pieces.
We are all winging it.
I realize that to some, if you have not heard that idea before, it might be a bit daunting. A stressful act to look around and find the world is propped up by billions of people who are faking it until they make it.
But, two points to that.
One: the world has yet to end.
And two: that means that humans are much better than anyone ever thought.
Think about it.
Science and spaceships and cookie dough ice cream and mural paintings and interpretive dance and storytelling and computers and music were all made by people. We got to this point in history by letting people bumble around until they found something they were good enough at that it was worth letting them continue.
We basically “accidented” progress.
We made up money.
We created every language.
Every recipe for every food was invented by people.
Your name is a random assortment of sounds that we decided sounded good. I am speaking to you through what was basically millions of human’s efforts combined. The endeavors of discovery, dedication, and then accidentally amazing results.
We are all winging it, all teetering on the edge of abject failure, and we all still manage to do what we do and make every business and building and light you see around you somehow run and work within the confines of entropy and cosmic indifference.
If we can do that, then you can survive.
You can be happy.
I have no idea how anyone is happy, but we manage somehow.
Love and songs exist despite how fucking tiny we are—and how short life is.
Perhaps we are all laughing in the dark.
But at least we are not alone.
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