“My boyfriend sucks so bad, I don’t even want to marry him.” –one of my Uber drivers
The anti-muse is a character I’ve been playing around with. This is a person who does not, can not, and will not inspire you. But, you’re friends with them anyway. You date them anyway. You let them stick around, because, well, they are nice.
Nice is good. Nice isn’t enough though. We don’t need them in our lives, but that’s just the thing-we do need them. For comparison. When confronted with the juxtaposition of the muse and anti-muse things get a little clearer. You see the worth and value in the friend that made you laugh so hard at happy hour you snorted in front of the cute bartender. You remember how that girl in your Shakespeare seminar said the most curious things, and because of her, you actually read Hamlet all the way though. No sparknotes.
The anti-muse reminds us that we should always be searching for those particular individuals that inject us with splendor, because the alternative is pretty bland. And I’ve decided I don’t fucking do bland anymore. A good friend of mine recently said, “I’d rather you be annoying than do nothing.” What truth that statement holds. I would rather you be so wildly passionate about platypus breeding than not care about anything at all.