Wednesday, August 11, 2010

I can feel you judging me.



During the mundane little lives we lead we somehow bumble our way through existence trying to assemble some sense of normalcy and control over a world which is clearly as random and chaotic as life itself.  It becomes a necessary part of our existence that we adopt certain guises to make it obvious to the outside world which particular cultural 'hat' we have on today.  Now if you are like most of us you will no doubt have to transgress between these defined and structured sets of cultural guidelines purely to  earn some kind of living.  Whether you are a pharmacist by day and a stripper by night (I know, I always wonder) or a kindergarten teacher who sings in an 80's glam rock tribute band, there exists a certain need to present different images of ourselves to those we come in to contact with.  It would hardly be considered appropriate for our second life to somehow intersect with the first.  It's not exactly this that I have a problem with as such, it's my problem with people having some sort of idea that there is a way to rebel against society and make a statement against the blind conformity of people in today's society by wearing skinny jeans and a black shirt.  Now it's not the first time in history this phenomenon has occurred.  Think of Kurt Cobain wearing flanelette shirts and cardigans circa 1991.  It's cold in Seattle, really cold but Kurt (by trying to keep warm and being in a mega succesful band) gave a disillusioned, disaffected youth a mode of expression and pretty soon in order to rebel against society there was a strict set of cultural guidelines that one must abide by.  Every "rebellious" subculture has a quite clearly defined set of culturally accepted norms that must be obviously adhered to for immediate categorisation in this group.  And as human beings our lust for belonging is insatiable and undeniable.  So when I was on the tram this morning on my way to work for a meagre salary as a sales representative in my shirt, black pants and tie, I felt a certain unease as the skinny jean asymmetric haircut sporting hipsters cast their eyes my way and judge.  Fair enough I admit, I am abiding by culturally accepted norms of business attire and what it means to be an inner urban male in inner urban society.  And I admit, I am also sacrificing a certain part of my creativity and individuality by adhering to these guidelines BUT.......... For you to judge me for trying to make enough money to put myself through university, play in a band of a night time, run an independent record label, volunteer for charity, try to be a supportive partner, release independent music and occasionally do my dishes is a bit of a stretch.  Particularly when although you might look like the lead singer of the latest shithouse indy rock band to grace the gig guide of Beat magazine, how the fuck do I know that you don't get off the tram to go work in a call centre scamming the elderly on insurance deals or utilities providers, then go home and play your Playstation 3 through your 50 inch plasma TV in your upwardly mobile post gentrified inner urban suburb while simultaneously verbally bashing minority groups while your vacuous (but hot) girlfriend talks about the latest "news" she read in the MX.  The point is I don't know that.  But I don't feel qualified enough to cast judging looks at you on the tram so to you I say, judge not lest ye be judged.... or something equally as biblically profound.  We can all get along fine as long as we are prepared to admit that there is a little bit of bullshit that goes along with living in any society, and it's ok to admit it.

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