I was talking to my friend at work the other day about lifestyle. She works in the paper’s lifestyle section so it’s no wonder we talked about it like writers – in the abstract.
Her job is essentially to create fun articles that are informative and helpful but also more transporting than the run-of-the-mill news story. It’s a tough line to walk but she manages. But anyways, her articles give off a very cool, certain and self-accepting vibe which I find very refreshing.
Too often, Lifestyle is something to which one aspires. It’s not the way you are, the things you really like and enjoy spending your time on. What Lifestyle (in its capitalized glory) really is, is something you are not.
Do not be taken aback, dear Reader, for I only refer to you on the other side of the screen when I address you directly. What I mean is that lifestyle is a lens through which we are meant to display our best qualities. But, it is reductive because only the parts of you which fit the mold are shown – if you properly style your life.
I cannot help but think back to my Grandparents when I take about this. In their time, the lifestyle section of a paper told you what you should be doing that you are not. Back then, my friend would’ve been tasked with finding out what the coolest people on campus were doing and why.
It would’ve been her job to tell people what they, and the lives’ they had, were lacking in comparison and I think that’s just awful. I think the progression reflects the change our society’s made. Specifically, the acceptance of a newer morality – one that does not invade so much into other people’s lives anymore.
I’m not saying that everything is hunky dory, obviously shit ain’t perfect. But, we are able to breathe a bit more, in my part of town anyways. I am able to see other people express as much interest in themselves, in discovering what they want and no more just reacting to others – it’s good.
When my Grandma would come home from being out somewhere. She would relax and be more herself. It was not as pronounced as it could’ve been given that she was a strong, Polish woman – but it was noticeable all the same. I only knew her for a little while towards the end of her life, but I really did like her.
It is odd how life kinda radiates in and around itself in these endless arcs. They seem to be everywhere I look, these connections – these ethereal links. I don’t know what to make of it – perhaps I’ve found inner Peace. Qui sais?