I sold my car last October. I did need the money, but I decided, I needed to return to a simpler life where everything is possible. I loved my car, and it was a large part of my life. For me, it was not a possession, it was an experience. However, after four years, it locked me into the lifestyle I disliked.
I was worried about living without a car in Austin. This is not Northeast. We do not have a world-class public transport system. But curiously, I am doing just fine, and fell in love with this town thanks to experiencing it on the bus, on my bike, or by foot.
Last year was revolutionary, and this one change was being built up to all year. The transformation started by cutting up my credit cards, and paying off many of them. Continued by a stubborn refusal to spend money on new "things" opting instead for consignment, and started boiling when I shaved my head and beard, retiring a look I maintained for full eight years.
These gradual changes liberated me from my past lifestyle - one I no longer enjoyed - but also served up a revelation on another level. They exposed to me the extent to which my previous life was dictated by what others expected of me. Get a job, settle down, get a car, buy nice things, be serious. I lived the life that I was supposed to; I followed social norms to the point where this child of Communism, brainwashed by liberals at Oberlin, became a khaki wearing part of the mass of the employees.
Then, amids a turmoil of another topic, I woke up to my inner child throwing a fit, desperately claiming my attention. I realized the precise nature of what I had removed from my life: the simple, self-serving amusement of the world around. The delight in swinging from a jungle gym. The joy of jumping into a puddle. The fascination of engaging in interactions with other people I realized I no longer cared about the opinion of others if they kept me from being happy. My inner child was cranky, and I decided take steps to soothe it down and amuse its senses.
The beauty of social norms is that most of them (all of them?) are completely arbitrary. By virtue of this single feature, they are almost virtually optional. We are free to follow them and free to ignore them. If I do not step on your toys (toes), or play with your sandcastle, why should you care mine looks like Hugh Hefner's bed?
With this mindset, I chose to ignore a defined set of social norms and expectations, and closely examine others. Should I continue my path as an academic or seek a more applied direction? Should I find myself another partner and settle down, or roam the world alone for now and see where it takes me? Do I really need to wear underwear?
Love. I
This song - the theme to the extremely popular Juno - needs no introduction. But only when I was recently re-watching the movie, did I realize the harmonica part in it. As with many instruments, their presence is often lost in the song's overall harmony of sounds and melody. The harmonica in this song it the lead instrument and omnipresent throughout, but I lost it nonetheless. In Barry's tradition (this song is from 1977) the song is masterful, cheerful, and beautiful. 
John Gibler is a journalist for The Independent and author of Mexico Unconquered. I read his book for my Education Policy Seminar, and he recants many of his perspectives in this talk at a book signing. The interconnectedness of history and the present, historical colonization and present oppression, Conquistadors and NAFTA is uncannily and disturbingly obvious.
This is an older RadioLab (WNYC) about changing the human nature. Very beautifully done (as per usual) and very inspirational. Things can change - so let's change them :) 
