Resistance is futile

I was thinking this morning about assimilation. Not in scary Borg terms, but just in general. The kind of assimilation that makes us become a minivan-driving soccer mom, or that makes the be-tattooed and pierced mid-twenty something crowd buy their babies' onesies at Hot Topic.

You know, it's all conformity. We're all conforming to something. It is only our own sensibilities that determine what we conform to, at least at the most personal level. I think the point I was trying to get to in my head was that, to a degree, there is nothing wrong with a little bit of conformity. It's the natural byproduct of being a part of human society. There are certain concessions to be made to the social mentality. Accept it. It doesn't have to be a complete destruction of one's personality or beliefs, particularly if it's with regard to something of only marginal importance. Much like the favorite cliche, I'm not saying that if all your friends shoot heroin, you should do the same. I'm saying ... if it's the concession that you have to, say, wear business attire for an interview, suck it up. Is it really that big a deal? Is it life-threatening? Are you really going to spontaneously turn into Donald Trump if you have to wear something other than your usual uniform in order to feed yourself and pay your rent? Look at it this way: it's modern evolution at work. Survival of the fittest. Keep your principles, if you wish, but understand that there may come a time where it's them or you.

It seems to me that there's a fine line to being principled. Great, you've got your guns and you're stickin' to 'em. All I ask is for a little perspective, a little moderation. I think you can stick to your guns in a mature manner and understand that sometimes, well, you're just gonna have to leave those guns at home. I don't think one needs to take such a mandate as some personal indictment of, well, anything. Just means you're behaving like a rational human being. Be yourself at home. Go nuts. Be yourself around your friends. At some point, you will reach a balance and discover that there are ways to even be yourself at work or within the confines of greater society. And it's not selling out. It's being a grown-up. It's surviving. It's Darwin, man.

I don't have a big point to make here; it's just something I was thinking about. I know a lot of younger people who are struggling to find the balance in life between wishing to never be forced not to be themselves, and understanding that sometimes, you're just gonna have to be somebody else for a little while. The point is just not to turn into that other person all the time; rather to combine the necessary traits of Society You with Real You.

I definitely consider myself an individual. I hope to remain one. For me, being an individual means liking what I like and doing what I do, regardless of whether or not someone else thinks it's completely bizarre or completely mainstream. I like Dave Matthews and Fantomas. I enjoy professional sports, but I do think the glorification and pay of professional atheletes is obscene. I like to be esoteric and intellectual sometimes, and sometimes I like to watch television and pay attention to the trainwreck that is Britney Spears. I have my doubts about whether or not marriage as a social function is really the right idea, but I chose to get married and to make that relationship work through active engagement, conversation, and compromise. I would infinitely prefer to spend my time in jeans and flip-flops, but I accept that as an adult, sometimes I have to wear high heels.

Conformity doesn't have to be a four-letter word. Just think of it as a survival tactic, except that instead of developing a longer, pointier beak, you're learning to hold your opinions in check if it will keep you from offending your boss. It's still all about making it home with (and for) dinner.

What kind of flirt are you?

I log out of Myspace, and there it is - one of those annoying and ubiquitous (annoyingly ubiquitous?) flash ads, demanding to know what kind of flirt I am. There are horrifically stereotypical pictures with captions like "Seductive" or "Playful" and what-have-you, and as I'm sitting there looking at it, I realize that there's only one good answer to that question.

"Successful."