Why so serious?

It has occurred to me that you may think that all this silliness about cats and cravings and Caveman Literature reviews and hairy, fungus-ridden girls is just that: silly; that I’m making light of a serious issue and time in my life because I’m afraid, or still in denial, or seeking refuge in an adolescent attitude of flippant irreverence.

And, certainly, as a teenager and young man, the irreverence, the flippancy, the coolness, the casual response, the caustic glance, the witty reply, the insouciant confidence, the raucous laugh, the easy shrug, the raise of the eyebrows, the Teflon skin, the fuck off, the fuck it, the “whatever,” the “really?”,  the “that’s dumb,”  came to me easily (as it does to most adolescents, undoubtedly and unfortunately).

As completely inappropriate as that insufferable attitude is in an adult, especially an adult about to bear a child; as much as I have outgrown it; as much as I realize that taking things lightly is often a way of evasion, avoidance, and escape; I still happily and wholeheartedly subscribe to Oscar Wilde’s philosophy that “we should treat all the trivial things of life very seriously, and all the serious things of life with sincere and studied triviality.”

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