Introducing: Ask The Plant
By Esme Bale
Dear The Plant,
What do you when your life feels utterly boring?
Love,
Bored
Dear Bored,
Our media perpetuates this negative relationship with mundanity. My advice to you: fall in love with the mundane. She is the girl from the movies that is unnoticeable and shy at first, but one day she takes off her glasses and she’s hot, like really hot. She’s the protagonist everyone is rooting for. We watch her as she crushes on the wrong boy. Then prom happens, and that’s the night we sweep her off her feet. You and the mundane are meant to be.
There are moments in my life where everything is falling apart and I am trapped under the rubble. In those moments, I question why I do any of this living business if it all seems to lead to stress, sadness, and ultimately pain. I go to class and feel like I am drowning in the endless assignments and people that seem more capable at life than me. I feel disgusted when I see a glimpse of my body in the mirror. I wonder why my close friend is no longer very close to me. But then, I am walking home at 10pm in September, the air is cool, and my ears are consumed by the voice of Neil Young. The cross on the mountain looks so small and I feel so big. I am waiting for him to text me back, and in that moment, it feels like he might be gone forever. In the silence, I become my entire universe. I understand why I do this living thing, I really do.
I am not living for the exciting moments. I am not living to experience a love story you see on the big screen. I am not living to be admired. I am not even living to be loved. I am not living to go to parties. I am not living to entertain others. I am not living to scream. I am not living for nights I can’t explain. I am not living in hopes a stranger will one day recognize me. I am not living for even my dream job. I am not living for any sort of success. Wanting a traditionally exciting life is such a superficial layer of our desires. Excitement is short-lived. She is a typically hot girl with an intoxicating laugh. She is unreliable. She does not genuinely care about you. It feels like you can’t look away, but she does that to everyone, you’re not special. You’ll never be yourself around her. You know she’ll leave as soon as she can.
I am living for the mundane. I am living for the first touch of sun, the way I feel awkward when you look at me just a bit too intensely, songs that I am embarrassed to listen to, Veronica Mars, the taste of lemonade, gossip about celebrities I don’t even care about, the thrill of thinking of someone who doesn’t think of me, full moons, asking people what they are studying, seeing pretty people on the metro, the stains on my shirt, faded hair dye, the sleepiness of two glasses of red wine, my father telling me he loves me, the cats wandering the streets of Mile End, the last minute of the party, and clean laundry. I live for the mundane. I thank it everyday for the unconditional love it gives me.
The mundane sees you at your worst and loves you all the same.
Love,
The Plant