OK. I'm Not OK.


The level with cheat codes.

Your jeans five times before you meet him for drinks.

Your major before first year's up.

The channel because... you're late to Netflix.

Change anything. Go ahead. Our world has more than enough options. And I suppose that's part of the problem.

All my life, I've been used to change. I grew up with a father in the military, so we moved every three to four years. The only constant in my life was change. Perhaps change Jackson Pollocked itself across the canvas of my life, but for those of you whose lives offered you notable constants - tiny pearls of truth with the realism of a Johannes Vermeer - I know you feel it, too.

A nod to the 80's and Apple's lead in branded individualism proves how convoluted options have made our lives. Do we all still want a colour choice for iPhones? Do we want to be unique? To stand out in the world? To feel like we made a difference? At what cost? What matters to us these days? What gives our lives meaning? Stop harassing me with so many questions! Beige. Keep everything neutral, bright throw pillows for accents.

Just leave this world a little better once we're gone - that's the goal, right? Maybe that's a simple notion. Maybe it's a grand feat. Maybe we're all afraid of falling short.

Ever more often, these queries drive me crazy - and not always in the adoring alliteration of a nickname sort of way, when my friends call me Crazy Cales and I get to pretend they're comparing me to "misfits" like Robin Williams and Steve Jobs. Sometimes, I feel small. Subpar. Never enough and forever misunderstood. Sometimes, I even feel guilty for admitting I find woes in my truly privileged life, as if I haven't earned the right to feel pain. A cognitive dissonance.

And then, one day, I met a wizard, who gave me just a touch of magic: "It's OK to not be OK," he said. And he was right.

It is OK. I'm not OK. At least not all of the time. But that's OK. I don't have all the answers. But I sure do have questions (Lord knows, along with my parents and several past employers). And that's what you can expect: a shit ton more questions, regularly interspersed with my favourite, "Are we there yet?"

There is so much to disenchant us with this world, so many disheartening truths. But there's yet a little magic, a hope that beacons us forward. For, what bleeds from humanity may be healed by humanity.

So, sure, Ghandi, we want to be that change. And, no, we're not sure if it'll come out as vehement as a Pollock or as prudent as a Vermeer, but we're damned if we don't try. And if change comes only once we admit we have a problem, then that's where we'll start: We're Totally (Not) OK.

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