cliché

cliché

Everything's become so cliché. Even the phrase itself, "everything's become so cliché" has become a cliché. Clichés everywhere. Here, there, over there and even in there. Clichés, routine, boundaries, stability, are all clichés. They are the air we breathe.

A cliché is a banality, or an overused commonplace. Shall we walk through the life of somebody, anybody? How about a volunteer?

Wake up, go to class, eat, come back, study, talk with friends, sleep. Done. Next day, repeat.
Oh no, we all heard that one before. Of course we are all wrapped up in routine. I hear pseudo intellectuals (oh, may I be one?) talk about the routine all the time. A shallow graze at the problem. Being proactive in life is easier said than done.

I'm tired of hearing that same old phrase over and over again, and I'm tired of living that life. But look, even the life we sometimes break out of that routine is still a routine. Let's say it becomes the weekend. The twenty-eight point six percent of your life that we can easily assume is yours. Can we go down the list of stuff we do? Let's say you like bowling, then let's go bowling. How about ice skating, oh wonderful. Hmm, shall we go for a drink and hit up that city of trash that borders downtown? Perhaps. Eat food. Go to somebody's apartment? And this is the rare occasion that we do happen to go out on the weekend.

The more and more we think about it, the more and more we are constrained by a tiny list of possibilites that we are limited to do. Or perhaps limit ourselves to do. But what else can we do? I've spent many a summer trying to formulate lists of things to do on a dead friday or saturday night. That list expanded forth to hiking, graffiti, tping, iceblocking, hunting, clubbing, stgn stealing, and other morally gray activities. But even then, how many is that? Numerically? Fifteen things to do? Maybe we can go to the beach? Sixteen.

Dreary.

Life is dreary. Life is melancholy. Life is colorless according to these principles. Those little sparks of fun last for a couple moments anyhow. And honestly, the rest we fill in with absolutely ridiculous (the word ridiculous could be debatable) things like studying.

I am young right now, am I not? Youth only comes once; once it leaves, you can knock at its door, or chase after it's shadow but you will never actually grasp it anymore. Right now, I have a firm grip on it, and it feels good. I can still run a mile, still enjoy a crazy concert without getting strange looks and still wear funny outfits without looking like I belong in an asylum.

So what do to? Honestly this post is ridiculously depressing till this point. Maybe I'll end on some note that says, "live your life! carpe-fuckin-diem! yea!," but that shit's gone way past the point of chiché. So screw that. But who knows? Clichés are often right. And they only sound cliché because we as people don't adhere to its seemingly obvious principles. So next time you go out, or next time you study, or next time you think your doing something you did at least twenty times, look back and think if that moment will last in your life, or if it's worth it. Or for even nights we can't remember.

The hourglass is pushing sand, and nothing I can do can stop it. Everything tells me that I should be using all the time I have extremely efficiently.

Honestly, this post itself is a cliché. And I hate clichés, so I'd rather not end on a cliché note. Curse my psuedononconventionalism. I try too hard to be out of the box. So what to do? I don't know, maybe you could spend your time writing lyrics for a mixtape that you can sell and put on the radio and then get picked up by a record label and be poor for a while then get noticed and then suddenly get really rich and fall in slums of alcoholism and drugs but then find christ and then have kids to carry on your legacy and then die. Iono, sounds better than fuckin bowling. Maybe I'll give it a try.

It's not about what we do, it's about how we do it, and who we do it with.

To compensate for this awefully grotesque post, here is a cute picture to fit my emotions.
For your fuckin enjoyment.
And for my fuckin catharsis.