The little things in life.

We are, as a species, unable to be forward about many things. Language is used as a tool to obfuscate truth with layers of unkind politeness. Specifically, there’s a built-in passive-aggressiveness surrounding the measure of things. We are not able to tell our neighbor their dog is a loud maniac who keeps everybody up at night. No, we simply say the dog is a little loud. Maybe a little too aggressive. The neighbor then acts a little offended when someone tells them about your little opinion. Never mind the fact that they are very much offended and downright pissed-off. So the now angry neighbor starts a little rumor about you saying that you like to drink a little too much. This is part of our lives, in all corners of the world.

Back in your school days, teachers would tell your parents that you could try a little harder. Just enough not to seem a little too dumb, and maybe even a tiny bit smart. Everyone else at school was busy trying a little too hard to fit in and wouldn’t take notice of your little learning challenges. Every other day your father would talk to you about studying a little more. He would tell you that those who made it in life always worked a little harder than the rest. Sometimes he’d say they worked a lot harder, but was careful not to scare you with the premise of having to do a little bit of work. You know, getting your hands a little dirty. Teachers liked you because you were a little dorky, and maybe a little better than average. Grading your tests felt a little too easy but they appreciated the fact that you didn’t do too well. Maybe some of you tried a little too hard and ended driving the teachers crazy with your little essays about how education today is a little more than a glorified baby sitting service. All of the school staff was more than a little too happy when you graduated.

Your love life itself could improve a little if you just paid a little more attention to the little details. I know my wife would love it if I was a little more aware of her wants and desires. I’m trying to be better, but to be honest, at my age it takes a bit of energy to do a little extra. Maybe you don’t have this problem. Maybe your love life is good, even a little too good, some might say. Having a lot of adventures that end up with you having a little one show up nine months later. You don’t talk about that around the little one in fear they’d grow up resenting you a little. When you love a little too much you spend a little too much money going out, leaving you a little too broke during the rest of the week. It’s hard to balance your love life because you could overdo it a little and find yourself completely alone with a bunch of little ones stomping their little feet like giant T-Rex. Some people know how to balance things, but the rest of us just need to take it a little at a time. Which makes us a little anxious because deep within we feel we are not enough or a little too much.

Talking about things that are a little expensive, everything seems to be going up a little too much. Every day I go to buy groceries, the prices are a little higher. At some point I’m going to be forced to admit being a little too broke to be able to eat organic bananas. It’s one of the little ways I treat myself. I want to save a little more to go on a little vacation. Nothing too extravagant, I want to rent out a little hotel room in a little beach town in Spain. Have a little bit of fun, do a little bit of dancing, a little drinking, and a lot of beach time. I love the beach, maybe a little too much some might say. Growing up on a little island in the middle of the Atlantic means I spent a lot of time at the beach. It is another one of the little things I do. Keeps me a little sane.

For some reason people seem a little more anxious these days. I think it has to do, in part, with how our whole life is a little too in the open on social media. Corporations have conditioned us to overshare a little too much. To be an open book with little to no benefit. People are posting about their little opinions too much. I don’t care if you think the Kardashians are a little too famous for their own good. Don’t care that you fantasize a little about being born during the second world war in order to go killing Nazis. I truly do not care that you had a little too much guacamole for lunch and now left the bathroom at the fast food place a little too dirty for anyone to do anything besides scream in horror. I don’t post much on social media besides these articles. I don’t have anything interesting to hide, well maybe, because I had a period in my life where I thought I was the next genius physicist. Turns out, I was more than a little wrong about that. To this day, I only understand a little bit of physics. It doesn’t keep me from occasionally tripping and falling down. Some might say I know gravity a little too well. Not being a genius turned out to be a great thing. I cannot imagine living a life where I know a little too much about everything. Mostly because anxiety is one of those things where you are feeling mostly OK and then boom, you are now a little anxious. Being an anxious genius is more than a little annoying. I get anxious about my car’s battery being a little too old and leaving me stranded somewhere without much phone charge and too little signal. If I were a little more of a genius, I’d be able to calculate how likely it would be for a bear to come from behind the bushes and eat me right out of my little car.

My mom knew how much of an anxious boy I was. She thought I would grow out of it and was more than a little wrong. After a little bit of time, I’ve learned that anxiety is my way of being aware that the world is a little nuts and that everything is a little too much at times. Those who have learned to hide their anxiety a little too well may fool you and me, but everyone gets their fifteen minutes of fame. I’d rather it be for being an anxious comedian than someone who blew up, went a little too far, and appeared on a little news segment called “Local Man Loses It After Barista Puts A Little Too Much Milk In Their Latte.”