Faith and Trust and Pixie Dust

A year and a half later, and we’re back! And so much has changed since then. [Please visit the link in the sidebar to view our previous blog site — the prequel, if you will.]

The most obvious thing that has changed, of course, is our age. I (Sabrina) am no longer 16, but am now 18 years old — what we in America call adulthood. Elana is 19.

But are we really adults? True, we do big adult things now like driving, living [somewhat] on our own, working a job (OK, so we’re both currently unemployed), and being in serious relationships. And then there are those little adult things too that potentially qualify us as adults: doing our own laundry, feeding ourselves, keeping ourselves in shape, and maintaining our own daily schedules.

But who’s to say that those items on a checklist are the ingredients of maturity? In fact, who’s to say that maturity and adulthood are even synonymous? We’ve all heard of the 40-year-old men who still live with their parents and who play video games all day. Not exactly the characteristics of a mature being. Then again, what is “mature,” really?

We as human beings apply the word mature differently to the animal world than the way we apply it to ourselves. Biologically, an animal is supposedly mature when I has reached adolescence. It has reached its most essential point in life, when it has the ability to make genetic duplicates of itself, to keep Earth flourishing with its own kind.

Silly as we humans are, we have to label and organize every detail of our observations and experiences. Additionally, we feel the need to establish ourselves as the most superior species on the planet. We praise ourselves for being able to use our brains in spectacular ways, for being able to express emotion, for being able to communicate effectively to one another. As a result of our incessant desire to categorize, combined with our ugly arrogance, we’ve created a certain kind of category separating humans from animals.

You know… a what-makes-humans-“special” sort of thing.

We invented this thing called Personality. Also, things like Choice and Morality and Conscience. We tend to admire ourselves for these Traits That Separate Us From Animals, indeed believing that they mark us as Great.

But really what I’d like to know is this: precisely how does that make us BETTER? Perhaps these characteristics are actually just flaws in evolution, flaws in biology.

Considering “how far” the human race has come, I’d say we are outrageously backwards. Contrary to animals — who have and know exactly what they need to survive and reproduce — we frequently ignore instinct and get ourselves into all sorts of shenanigans.

Instinct! The very basics of survival! And we… ignore it? In fact, each of us are genetically programmed with the very features that get in the way of instinct, i.e. the list of human inventions I compiled above.

Therefore, “Maturity” and “Adulthood” in the context of Personality mean… well, nothing. Because none of it really matters in the long run. So many people question why they are here living on planet Earth. What is your purpose? What is your destiny?

Simply put, destiny is jack shit. There is no such thing. Your purpose and my purpose is merely to reproduce and keep our species thriving. Animals do not have destinies and neither do we: it’s foolish to think that we are that important.

Since I am now declaring that maturity (in that manner) does not exist, I think it’s safe to say then that we are adults, Elana and I according to American law.

I guess it gets even more complicated here…. So if we’re through maturing (i.e. adolescence), and we’ve reached America’s legal definition of adulthood, then what did happen? Because certainly something did change between our first blog and this one, besides acquiring a new ineffective label. [Hello, my age is 18.]

I think I’d like to say that we began growing up. We suddenly started doing those “adult” things that we hadn’t done before, and I suppose we even started acting a bit differently. We’re still us at the core, but with new perspective and experience. Graciously, however, I wouldn’t suggest that we are ALL grown up just yet: I want to hold onto as much pixie dust as I can.

Looking back on our old blog and youtube videos (oh dear…) we suddenly realized with a shock that we don’t do the things we used to or feel the same way about things we had then. Instead of feeling rather proud of what I have now accomplished though, I found that I merely felt a sense of longing or even sorrow. I miss the days when I actively sought out happiness and strove desperately to keep it consistent.

I miss LA, I miss my friends/boyfriend, I miss the sun, the beach, my car, my cats, my theatre, my happiness. At this moment in time, lasting happiness — or even satisfaction — seems so far away and so sadly impossible. I wish I hadn’t started drowning.


Hoping for some air,

P.S. I feel bad depressing anyone who is reading this, so cheer yourself up with a good dose of Stephanie J. Block, because I am re-obsessing over how… ugh just ridiculous she is. Adjective fail.

[Just watch the main song of each video. There’s excess stuff after the songs.]


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