Well hello again. It’s been a while since my last post, and I thought I’d take this chance to announce a discovery I’ve made. I’ve taken to a monochromatic wardrobe a while back, and upon further inspection of social media, have come to a conclusion that it began almost one year ago. This discounts the black tee, jeans, and working boots phase I had prior to that.

Contrary to what I expected, the year passed by relatively quickly (much quicker than I’m comfortable with, frankly), and I haven’t thought much of my styling options until today, when I felt that my black Doc Martens could use a polish, but realised that my black Vans were too scruffy to stand in as a replacement.

I’d like to think that a handful of you would be interested in the life of a goth ninja, so I present to you, the things I’ve learned being colourless for a year.

 

1. You don’t become a genius

I get it; Mark Zuckerberg, Steve Jobs, and Elbert Einstein always dressed the same, and you read somewhere that these personalities had a propensity for brilliance. I’ve always seen similar posts shared on Facebook with quotes along the path of: “This explains my dress sense.” Perhaps I was doing it wrong, because one year in, I’ve not established a disease-curing foundation, nor have I come up with an innovation that fits in your coin pocket.

Though I have to admit that during my prime—where I cycled through a pair of black jeans and 7 black t-shirts—getting dressed in the mornings was a breeze.

 

2. Laundry is a bitch

Minimalists have a field day doing their laundry, because less clothes mean less effort. The amount of industry actually multiplied when I started going monochrome. I’m somewhat messy of a person, and my post-wash decisions bounce between leaving my clothes in the dryer, or dumping the whole lot of them into my drawer.

Have you ever hunted for clothes your size during a clearance sale? That’s how I feel every time I rummage through my black pile of doom. Let me just grab this t-shir—oh it’s just my shorts. Why are my socks so—FUCKING UNDERWEAR.

 

3. Nobody gives a fuck

I don’t know who came up with “people who matter don’t mind, and people who mind don’t matter,” but that’s the gist I got from wearing almost the same stuff every day— although in my case, nobody saw me often enough to remember that I dressed the same.

You know what that means? It means you can live your life however you want, and nobody’s going to care. It’s either that, or I need more contact with the outside world.

Of course, you’ll still need take other people’s feelings into account, just not in a sense of following their values. All you need to do is not be creepy about it. Want to stay single your whole life? Well, help yourself! Want to gain happiness from other people’s suffering? Now hold on a minute there, Satan.

 

four. I’m bad at listicles

I started off having such a great idea for this article that I didn’t really think things through. I know that I’ve been slacking on the blogging front, but I haven’t been able to come up with things of substance to update the site with. Turns out that having a day job as a writer jams the doorstop on creative output, and being content with life isn’t really the best place to be to inspire your muse. But hey, if Pen Pinapple Apple Pen is getting four million hits, then this post should at least count for one percent of that, right? Right? Hell, I’d be happy with forty hits.

 

e. The point is…

I’ve dressed up like The Undertaker for a year, and short of this post, there isn’t any Hollywood arc I get to take home from it. I’ve embarked on a writing career for four years now, and have nothing to show for it apart from the occasional byline in newspapers and magazines.

I’ve entertained the thought of being a professional rollerblader, MMA fighter, and author for the longest time ever, but I had to earn a living, and I ended up hairdressing and teaching for most of my life, meaning long hours and low pay.

During the course of my life, I’ve grown up wanting to be like Stephen King, Alex Honnold, and the Miyao brothers—people who started on journeys that would’ve been frowned upon in the society I grew up in.

And I’m aware of the latest wave of ‘keep your job’ articles following the wake of ‘live your life’ posts. The thing is, families have been raised on MYR24,000 annual incomes, but there’s no way in hell you’re ever going to get your prime back to revisit your bucket list.

I have no idea how we’ve arrived on this tangent, but I guess my point is to live your life the way you want it, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise—even me.

PS: It’s good to be back.