I tested my parents’ urge to smother me with my own blankie in many ways as a small child, including by refusing to take no for an answer. I mean, I was like a dog with a motherfucking bone. As their patience wore thin, and after they’d exhausted other options, Mom and Dad would inevitably start answering, “Just because.”
As in:
“Can we pleeeeeeeease go to Funtown today?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too late.”
“Okay, so can we go tomorrow?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will be closed.”
“So can we go the day after that?”
“No.”
“How come?”
“JUST… BECAUSE!”
To which I would reply, “But why because?”
Yes, I was a giant pain in the ass, but it turns out I was onto something. I had happened upon—and refused to back down in the face of—the Tyranny of “Just Because.”
I’ve continued to ask “Why because?” throughout my life, and not only when I’m denied access to cotton candy and Ferris wheels. For example: the words “social butterfly,” “optimist,” and “mama bear” do not describe me, so why would I go to the party of the year just because I got invited? Why should I look on the bright side just because someone told me to? And what if I have no intention of starting a family just because that’s what all my friends are doing these days?
Oh, the tyranny!
The biggest obstacle to doing you is doing things just because that’s how everyone else does them, or because it’s the way those things have always been done. And when you deny your true nature just because you’re trying to fit in with the crowd—then you’re not doing you, YOU’RE SCREWING YOU.
Why would you want to do that?
Why because?
You Do You addresses the Tyranny of “Just Because” (for all kinds of people, not just the antisocial, pessimistic, child-free ones like me) and offers inspiration, advice, and talking points for the next time you feel the need to justify your life choices—whether to yourself, to your parents, or to a waiter who thinks a well-done burger is “an insult to the beef.”
(You do you, guy. But if it comes out medium rare, you may find your tip somewhat insulting too.)
Coming up in Part I, we’ll rap about who you are and why you’re reading this book; I’ll ask you some questions about what you want, need, and deserve from life; and I’ll describe a malady that is not yet in the DSM but certainly should be, and to which You Do You offers the cure.
Then we’ll examine the social contract and I’ll describe when you should adhere to it—before showing exactly when, why, and how you should not. Part of that “how” involves mental redecorating, which is a companion to the mental decluttering my other books are known for. This is the simple, painless process by which we’ll be turning your flaws (or what other people allege to be your flaws) into strengths—so that you may ignore the doubters, silence the haters, and do you with the exuberance of Bill Clinton at a balloon party. On Ecstasy. With interns.
Finally, we’ll go over what it means to be “unconventional” and why that is a messy, meaningless label but nevertheless germane to every page of this book.
Oh, and one more thing. I am nothing if not consistent—and mindful of how a kicky flowchart helps build my brand—so here’s a visual teaser for everything Part I has to offer. (This is just supplemental material, not an excuse to skip ahead. Don’t get cocky.)