The label is mildly insulting, but I guess I fit the bill. Married (relatively young), career focused, invested in some sort of responsibility…
What does that mean? I think I treasure building something outside of myself, a worthwhile community that doesn’t have a foundation in imbibition.
Many seek out the revelry of the city night in some sort of spiritual quest. They unconsciously propose that if the escapade is legendary, the company celebrity, the setting cinematic, they’ll transcend to some higher plane.
The truth is that contentment lies after a long hot day at the grindstone, code-slinging, the meal cooked sweating over the frypan, the long month of bottling beer, the two tiny tomatoes eked out in barren potsoil. Those are remembered moments, because they were bought with invested, thinking time.
Is disillusionment inevitable? Will there be a pain behind the mundane cubicle moments, the unnumbered nights void of excitement and bliss?
Yes. But there will be smiles on those wall photos. Smiles and music and food and travel and family.
And if that’s Neo Victorian, buy me a top hat.