What traditions have you not kept that your parents had?
Up when the rooster crows
“The Manual of Acceptability™: How to Be a Perfectly Palatable Person”
Chapter 1: Because Originality Is a Threat
Congratulations! You’ve made the courageous decision to trade in your spontaneity, joy, and unique spark for the warm embrace of societal approval. This chapter will walk you through the fundamental rituals of acceptability—those time-tested behaviors guaranteed to earn you polite nods, promotion opportunities, and the enduring affection of people who talk about the weather with conviction.
Step One: Rise Like a Machine
Wake up at 5:00 AM sharp. Not 5:01. That’s how anarchies start.
Real achievers (the ones who post sunrise yoga selfies in athleisure) have already been up for thirty minutes drinking lemon water, journaling about gratitude, and judging you.
Your alarm tone should be either Beethoven or a low-frequency hum designed by a productivity guru named Kyle. Under no circumstances should you snooze—unless it’s to make your bed military-style immediately afterward.
Step Two: Eat on Schedule, or Else
Three meals. Same time. Every. Single. Day.
Preferably:
Breakfast: Oats, chia seeds, and shame Lunch: Salad, dressing on the side, existential hollowness Dinner: Protein, steamed vegetables, and a strong sense of superiority
If you dare eat lunch at 12:13 instead of 12:00? Prepare for a full-blown identity crisis.
Step Three: Your Week Should Be a Spreadsheet
Your Monday should look like your last 142 Mondays.
Any deviation—like taking a spontaneous walk, weeping, or questioning your purpose—is unproductive and may result in a loss of status.
Weekly highlights:
Monday: Emails and self-loathing Tuesday: Meetings that could’ve been emails Wednesday: Silent screams Thursday: Pretend optimism Friday: Two hours of actual work, three hours of pretending to work Weekend: Laundry, regret, and forcing yourself to socialize because “that’s healthy”
Step Four: Choose Friends Like IKEA Furniture
Flat, clean, reliable. Assembly required.
Your friends should:
Agree with you Look like you Never ask, “How are you really?” Be available to cancel plans with at the last minute without guilt
Remember: diversity of thought is dangerous. Shared mediocrity is comfort.
Step Five: Modest Clothing, Maximum Control
Your clothes should whisper, not scream.
Think: Puritan, but make it Target.
If it flutters, shines, clings, or sparks joy? Burn it.
You are not a peacock. You are a sensible, beige ostrich with a savings account.
Step Six: Hair, the Mirror of the Soul (and Your Resume)
Perfect hair = moral integrity.
Unkempt hair? You might as well rob a bank in Crocs.
Your hairstyle should say, “I have no secrets and I use expensive conditioner.” Bonus points if it doesn’t move in the wind.
Step Seven: Speak the King’s English, or Be Banished
All sentences should be grammatically pristine and emotionally vacant.
Avoid:
Regional accents (unless British) Slang Feeling
Speak with the dry poise of a documentary narrator and the spiritual aura of a closed library.
Closing Thought:
If you follow these steps, congratulations: you are now indistinguishable from a decorative pillow at a model home. But remember—true success lies not in joy, freedom, or purpose, but in being unquestionably acceptable.
And now, please recite your daily affirmation:
“I am tidy.
I am timely.
I am emotionally unavailable.
I am approved.”
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My Near Death Experience Arts and Thoughts 