I don’t believe in bubbles.

I think that you have the background that you have and you live where you live. You have influences that are likely similar to those in your neighborhood or socio economic demographic.

I happen to believe that there are myriad permutations of class, education, and geography – not to mention sexual identity, race, and ability – that can create several different pockets of society. I further believe that these pockets can be distinct and share characteristics thereby ensuring that no single one could possibly be considered the basis from which all others should be compared. We are all part of a vast spectrum of human experience and to dismiss another’s person’s point of view simply because that person displays a recognizable set of characteristics that might allow an incurious observer to place said person in a “bubble” is not only intellectually lazy, it is irresponsible to further that narrative in our current political climate.

That being said, why the fuck am I buying succulents? Because I know for damn sure that that’s some Brooklyn shit.

And by Brooklyn, I don’t mean the borough (though I do), I mean the state of mind. I’m talking about the farmer’s market NPR used book store canvas tote (specifically that New Yorker one that I have and I see multiple times a day in my neighborhood) set of which I am a part. We complain about gentrification while gentrifying. We talk about ourselves in the third person in a blog post as if to create an ironic distance between ourselves and the behavior and yet no distance exists.

And we buy succulents because they’re an impulse buy out front of our local Whole Foods.

I don’t remember when the succulents thing started but I think they’ve been in vogue for a couple of years now. I don’t know if the boutique plants sellers of Park Slope created a market where there was none or perhaps patient zero in the succulent craze was on her way from the Co-op to yoga when she stopped by a plant store and said, “Hey, do you have a little plant that’s like a vaguely Buddhist cactus without any needles?” and a craze was born.

Who the hell knows.

What I do know is that I did google search for and watched a tutorial about making one’s own terrarium.

And I enjoyed it.

And I’m thinking of where I could find a really cool glass container for my terrarium because the store bought ones look a little too cookie cutter for my taste.

I bought two more succulents at Whole Foods last week to add to my window sill collection of plants. (Whole Foods, incidentally, is where I got my reusable coffee sleeve. And yes I am still sticking to this post’s original premise that bubbles do not exist.) I really like them. I had two already that my girlfriend picked up on a whim while getting stuff for my birthday in March. They’re still growing and that’s cool.

And yet, how did I become this person? How did this trend worm its way into my mind?

Maybe it’s best not to overthink it. Besides, I need to finish up this email to my co-op board about my initiative to start our own compost pile behind the building.

May God have mercy on my soul.