Radical Goallnessness (aka Nothinging)

Finding and embracing the most pointless parts of life with the goal of whatever, man

audio version of the article ^^

We all know we’re oversubscribed. It’s too much information, it’s too much chaos, it’s crisis. If I see another Mel Robbins clip talking to a scientist about our nervous systems or a 22-year-old TikTok influencer slinging Nello for commission talking about cortisol levels, I’m going to lose my shit. The problem is that even self-care has become a job. We’re self-care-maxing. Is anyone else sick of the job of daily serums and, I don’t know, an infrared mask? It’s so much labor!

Not to mention the pressure I put on everything. This bath better relax me! My skin better be perfect after this! Even going on a walk is with the goal of being thin and healthy (yeah, I admitted it, thin got first billing, sorry for being a woman in our society, god, I’m trying not to care—another job).

They say if you do something you love, you’ll never work a day in your life. Well…I also think that if you professionalize and financially incentivize the thing you love, you’ll never rest a day in your life, either. To a certain extent, this is my lot in life—I can’t even practice goallnessness without wanting to write about it. But I think that’s okay, that’s how I process and ultimately, it’s healthy. But the rest of it? Something’s gotta give!

Here are the things I have financialized or expectationified in my life:

• writing

• art (pet portraits, I mean they are really cute, check ‘em out I do like doing them but they’re on the list!)

• being funny

• watching hallmark movies

• talking to my mom and brother (we have a podcast, half the time end up saying we should save our conversations for the pod)

• singing/making music

YOU SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO LINK ALL THE THINGS YOU LIKE TO DO

I mean, it’s fine, I am lucky AF to do those things and make even a penny. But the problem is there is so much pressure on those things to work out. In Elizabeth Gilbert’s brilliant book on art, Big Magic, she recommended not putting pressure on your art (there were more brilliant, less obvious-sounding pieces of advice in there), which naturally makes sense. But at the time of reading that book a decade ago, and today, it feels so hard to actually do. I've written too many books that didn’t get shopped to publishers, didn’t make it past the agency phase for whatever reason, that I don’t have it in me to write for ‘no reason,’ so that’s out of the question. That’s kinda why I like being on here, because it doesn’t have to pass any particular test or be anything, it can just be. But still, there’s enough of an outcome considered (people will see it, it has to be thoughtful) to count it as goalless.

No, what I need, is something so pointless it’s a waste of precious time. Like, I have a walking treadmill and I once went through a phase of not just walking on it while editing the podcast, but also walking on it while playing fucking video games. In a way, it was good, not just sitting around, staying active, but in another way, it made everything into work.

Everything feels like fucking work, so I’m so drained all the time! In between writing, podcasting, filming and editing videos, trying to promote my book, plan my next one, I’m doing laundry, emptying the dishwasher (god I hate it so much), vaccuuming not just one room but I may as well do the whole house. I also have a little completionist in me and a little ADHD. So it’s an absolute black hole.

Even cleaning—scrubbing the kitchen from top to tile, is with the goal of it sparkling.

No, what I need to do for a while is this:

#1: Care 100% less about the outcome of the work I do

Like, actually 100%. I will do a good job, because I’m hardwired to do that, but why do I care about the outcome? I can literally not control it so I actually need to let it the hellllll go once it’s out of my hands. I wrote a good book. Did it get good reviews? Great! How are the sales? Okay, well, everyone’s broke and miserable and I can’t control that so….that brings me to one of my favorite mantras I ever heard: if you can control it why worry; if you can’t control it why worry?

#2: Do more pointless things, like actually pointless

This is where it’s hard. I’m like, well maybe I should just jog around the neighborhood, and then my next thought is, yeah, i’ll just do a little every day—and then I’m back to workifying it again. And then, bonus, my next thought is: and that’ll be great because i’ll probably lose a few pounds and it’s good for you! Yes, I need to be active, but this doesn’t count as pointless.

This is where the raking of the sand type stuff comes in.

This is the kind of pointless shit I need in my life.

I actually get it now. Do you just grow up and then eventually, thing by stupid thing everything kind makes sense?

Yes, anyway, I get it. Because you do it, and even if it’s perfect, then you wipe it away.

So for one idea, I suck at piano. I have played my whole life and I’m not very good! I can sightread anything, so anything that’s written down, I can play, but usually just at whatever damn speed I want, etc., and I have no goals of being a concert pianist, so this is great, this one can stay. I’ll never put that on the internet, make money for it, or evidently, get any better, ever. I am exactly the same amount good at piano I was in 2006, so let’s stick with that.

That’s where I’ll start! But not every day, for god’s sake, or I’ll rebel against me. Just whenever, for a bit, whatever, if I feel like it, for a while, I’ll play sometimes.

#3: Expectations are my new arch nemesis

This is similar, but not the same as #1. The best things that have ever happened in my life came from absolutely no expectations. I went to Marfa, TX when I was 25 with no idea about Texas except for basically the higher the hair the closer to god, and was absolutely shook by the experience. It was the time in my life, the people I was with, the breakup I’d just gone through, the fling I ended up having, and the culture shock of getting out of the cramped East Coast and being in the desert snowglobe of Far West Texas. That’s a story for another time, and when I write that article, I’ll link it here. But that’s because if anything, I expected yuck out of TX and got omg what.

I’m one of those coupled up assholes who met my boyfriend (five years and still cute) when I wasn’t looking, met organically through a mutual friend. No expectations.

I have also had awful experiences with high expectations, that include but are not limited to:

• a $600 bottle of wine

• Rome

• my latest book coming out (just, you know, it didn’t suddenly outsell all the Harry Potter books like I expected it would?)

• Hacks and Beef

• pixie cut

Expectations are famously the killer of a good time, but they are also a big part of my over-productivity, disappointment, resulting discouragement, and thus being drained.

So this week, I’m going to—without making it a job—I’m going to casually bear in mind the goallessness I’m striving for. Post and ghost, not worry about video views, for example.

And then hopefully—no wait! No goal! I was going to say maybe I’ll feel less tension in my shoulders, I’ll be more relaxed, I’ll—no! Just, I’m going to do it. Whatever, man!

Give me your most pointless ideas and I’ll do a part two where we can all bask in the nothing together