Grass as soft as cotton candy by Käthe Butcher
J. and I recently found ourselves kind of lost on a walk, we knew where we were but had no clue on the best strategy to re-join the path. We crossed a field of sheep, which was the cool part, then we had to cross a field of thigh-high nettles and thistles, crawl under barbed wire, and climb over fences, which was a less cool part but definitely memory worthy. Although it took us close to one hour to make our way, a bare 500 metres, through the stingy plants, I enjoyed it so much (not so much so for the itchiness).
Growing up in the Belgian countryside, I am more used to wild fields than clean-cut parks and over-the-top gardens you need to pay to visit. Although I do understand the appeal of the Boboli Garden, I much prefer the wilderness and its messiness. I tend to apply the same mentality to my thoughts and let them run free. I prefer to think of my brain as a wild garden, letting thoughts grow randomly as it always creates interesting ideas and serendipitous connections. This uncanny marriage of ideas can only happen when I resist the need to curate myself and reduce my personality to an aesthetic.
In the last few years, and especially since the pandemic, aesthetics have proliferated and personalities are reduced to a simplistic version where everything needs to fit together and match (see Barbiecore, dark academia or old money). As much as it would be nice to fit into only one of these and have all my clothes matching my flat design, colours working together perfectly and interests fitting in that same box, I am a disco ball: multifaceted. I have always bounced from one thing to another. As a kid I wanted to be a vet, then a surgeon (like Cristina Yang), a forensic anthropologist (like Temperance Brennan), a fighter pilot, a CIA analyst (Carrie Mathison of course), a war zone journalist, a diplomat, a writer. I loved the choices! Then I couldn’t pick one thing for sure (still can’t), and it has become a trap.
Wearing all black is my signature, what I feel the most comfortable and powerful wearing, but damn those floor-length floral dresses look too good! Too bad they do not match my aesthetic. And what is that aesthetic you could ask? I do not know. I can’t pick and I do not want to. I want to be untamed, feral, a mess of all the things I like, even if it means my style will forever be split in tiny mirrors; the essential is the whole. Messiness does make life harder; it also somehow makes it more enjoyable since I don’t have to break down my personality to fit one part. After all, the element I like the most about all those jobs is the learning part and the potential knowledge to accumulate.
As for everything, I am in a perpetual state of change. I could never stay put, never pick a sole idea and make it last without it being painfully uncomfortable, something feels wrong about stillness. I should probably talk about it to my therapist but in the meantime let’s avoid any more profound meaning. I love chaos, entropy is one of my favourite concepts and I prefer to embrace change rather than fight it. I know this space will evolve as I am already outgrowing it. I had to start somewhere, pick a title and stick to it at least for a bit, but I have too much to say to trap my curiosity in a violin-shaped bush. I want a garden outgrowing its former state, regaining wilderness.
Post Scriptum: as you may have noticed I have changed the name of my substack to “Procrastinating with Carole Kupper”. I am working on opinion/news pieces and (very) short stories, a bit of variety really. I am in a perpetual state of change, I embrace the mess and chaos of my thoughts. To being uncurated!