Middle-age would be in your 40s-50s. Not to diss my dead relatives too hard, but you’re thinking of old fucks that would have any solid opinion on that. In a handful of years, the music middle aged men will be up in arms about is *NSYNC.

Really, it’s babies’ fault for not staying ahead of the game. With all the germs they roll in and all the poop they produce, they should have something to show for it by now.

On the one hand, I feel really proud that I got under your skin so much that mine is the only contribution you’ve ever replied to in the 7 months that whole account has even existed. Someone just clearly isn’t having a good day if that’s the one thing that set off a professional lurker.

But also, like…I thought about this all through my quesadilla and it’s just really sad? Is this like Incel Logic: Hobby Edition, where you’re either born perfect and flawless or you’re a permanent shit failure and therefore whichever way the coin falls, you never have to work at anything? Like Big Education is a trillion dollar industry now, and really society is divided up Airbender style and you just didn’t get the CalArts gene?

There’s only one kind of person I can see falling for this weak-ass angle, and it’s the kind of person who’s never taken up any recreation for more than 1-2 days in their whole life because they don’t start out amazing at it and you can’t fail at anything if you never do shit. And honestly, I’m kinda bummed out that you have to live like that. You know you can just look up tutorials for anything these days.

A lot of people you read about who grew to be leaders in their field by some ridiculous age like 25, spoke fluently in 5 different languages, etc. etc. did so because they had three things: dedicated one-on-one tutors, an appreciable collection of slaves and/or other general servants to free up their personal time, and enough family wealth to pay for both from the time they could walk.

Mozart was composing as a toddler, but he also came from a wealthy family of musicians that taught him basically nothing else. Ever. That was the one thing. He hyper-specialized in music and socially he was the guy that got bored and did cartwheels and meowed in public. If Mozart was in your position, with the kind of loving care and finances most students have today, he would have been the kid in class who beatboxes over the teacher.

I’m actually still coming to terms with this myself. with mixed success. I’ve always loved art, but I’ve never been where I want to be. I’ve been making strides again, but the further I take it, the more it becomes apparent that 90% of the problems I’ve ever had with it were not me, they were because no one ever bothered to teach me. And I’m pissed about the decades I lost simply because child me was never shown concepts that would have changed everything.

Do not judge your own accomplishments on the same scale as someone who had ample time to devote to their studies because their family had house slaves doing everything you have to do by yourself.

Guess what happened the two whole times I deliberately ignored the “paranoia.”
Go on. Guess.

It probably takes me that long just to wash and rinse my hair.

To add one more aspect: When someone writes a reply asking for a source, did they actually do a short Google-search related to the claim? It basically takes the same time to just look at the summary of the search results as asking for a source. So I assume if someone asks for verification for an easily searchable fact, then they are acting in bad faith.

This point rubs me a little wrong both on the basis that

A) onus of proof falls on the one making the claim

B) if it takes the same amount of time to find the answer as it took for them to ask you, then logically it takes the same amount of time to include a source for anyone that wants further reading as it would to make them look for it

and (most importantly)

C) you can find pretty much anything on the internet if you’ve got 12 minutes to dedicate to looking through all the clickbait.

The result becomes that I can say any batshit thing I want to and now it’s your job to discredit your own stance for me, and if you aren’t convinced, you aren’t googling hard enough. Instead of just asking and finding out I got it from The Onion, which I would naturally be very against having to say out loud.

You’re supposed to ask what brush he uses.

I had to scroll back up just because she’s so pretty. That’s a quality cat, right there, and she knows it.
11/10 would kiss on her lil forehead.

But the boxes were taken to the dumpster, yes? With time saved, even? Someone in a managerial position would rather hire, train, and pay a devoted garbage person instead of three adorably unpaid raccoons?