Pop Existentialism, Tattoos, and the Embrace of the Ordinary
Beyond the Illusion of Uniqueness: Mastery, Conformity, and the Path to True Individuality
Introduction: The Pursuit of Uniqueness
It’s not just that people want to be unique—they’re desperate for it. In a world where standing out has become a commodity, the pursuit of individuality has been commercialized, packaged, and sold back to us. Take a look around, and you’ll see it everywhere. Pop existentialism, tattoos, curated identities on social media—each one screaming, “I’m different! I’m special!” But here’s the irony: in trying so hard to be unique, most people end up looking the same.
Let’s talk about pop existentialism for a second. It’s the intellectual equivalent of a fast-food meal—quick, easily digestible, and leaves you feeling emptier than before. Shows like *Rick and Morty* serve up nihilism with a side of dark humor, offering a watered-down version of existential philosophy that’s palatable for the masses. Fans eat it up, mistaking cynicism for depth, and then wear it on their sleeves—sometimes literally, in the form of tattoos that are as common as they are supposedly unique.
And that brings us to tattoos, the ultimate mark of individuality. Or so they say. But walk down any street, and you’ll see the same designs over and over again—geometric patterns, minimalist line art, pop culture references. It’s a uniform of nonconformity, an illusion of uniqueness that only masks the underlying conformity. The truth is, within the bounds of modern tattoo culture, the space for real originality is shrinking, not expanding.
But here’s the thing: there’s another way. It’s not about standing out through what you consume or how you decorate yourself. It’s about embracing the ordinary, the shared standards, and mastering the craft—whether it’s in a warrior culture, the philosophy of Japan, or the ethos of a modern tech startup. It’s about engaging in the kind of compounding games that Aristotle would’ve recognized, where skill and knowledge build on each other, creating something truly unique over time.
Nietzsche had it right—become who you are. But that doesn’t mean trying to be different for the sake of it. It means embracing your circumstances, honing your craft, and letting your individuality emerge naturally, authentically, through what you do and how well you do it. The pursuit of uniqueness doesn’t have to lead to conformity. Done right, it can lead to something much deeper and far more satisfying.
Pop Existentialism as a Sellable Product
Pop existentialism is the intellectual equivalent of a designer knockoff—flashy on the surface, but ultimately shallow and mass-produced. It’s philosophy lite, repackaged for a generation that craves meaning but doesn’t have the patience to dig deep. Shows like *Rick and Morty* are the perfect example. On the surface, they’re all about questioning the universe, challenging the status quo, and embracing the absurdity of existence. But let’s not kid ourselves. What we’re really seeing is existentialism boiled down to catchy one-liners and nihilistic punchlines, ready to be consumed by the masses.
The brilliance of pop existentialism isn’t in its depth—it’s in its marketability. By stripping down complex philosophical ideas into easily digestible soundbites, it becomes accessible, relatable, and most importantly, sellable. It’s not about exploring the human condition; it’s about branding. You don’t have to wrestle with the existential dread of Sartre or Nietzsche—you can just buy a T-shirt with a clever quote, laugh along with a show that gives you just enough intellectual flavor to feel smart without challenging you too much.
And that’s where the real genius lies. Pop existentialism isn’t just a philosophy—it’s a product. It’s something you can consume, something you can wear, something you can flaunt as a badge of your supposed intellectual depth. It gives people the comforting illusion that they’re part of some deeper, smarter conversation when really, they’re just repeating what’s already been pre-packaged and sold to them.
It’s no surprise that this version of existentialism has become a cultural phenomenon. It taps into the modern craving for meaning while offering a shortcut—no need to read *Being and Nothingness* or confront the abyss yourself. Just tune into the latest episode, buy the merch, and voilà, you’re part of the club. It’s existentialism for the Instagram age, where the appearance of depth is often mistaken for the real thing.
But here’s the kicker: for all its pretensions, pop existentialism often leads to the very conformity it claims to rebel against. The fans who pride themselves on their edgy, nihilistic outlook are often just echoing the same sentiments, wearing the same symbols, engaging in the same shallow conversations. It’s a herd mentality dressed up as individualism, a product sold to people who want to believe they’re standing apart from the crowd, when in reality, they’re just part of a different, slightly more ironic crowd.
So, while pop existentialism might make for good TV and even better merchandise, let’s not pretend it’s anything more than that. It’s a sellable product, not a path to true understanding. And in the end, what it really sells is the comforting illusion of uniqueness in a world that’s increasingly homogenized by the very forces it claims to critique.
Tattoos: The Illusion of Uniqueness
Tattoos are the ultimate paradox of modern culture: a declaration of individuality that’s become a uniform of conformity. Think about it—how many times have you seen someone with a sleeve of geometric patterns, a minimalist line drawing, or a quote from some dead philosopher? It’s ironic, really. The more people try to stand out with their ink, the more they blend in with everyone else.
Tattoos once meant something—marks of rebellion, symbols of identity, rites of passage. They were personal, unique, and often carried a story that was as individual as the person wearing them. But that was then. Now, tattoos have been commodified, turned into yet another product in the endless pursuit of consumer-driven self-expression. The result? A sea of sameness, where each "unique" design is just a variation on a theme that’s been played out a thousand times before.
Walk into any tattoo parlor, and you’ll see the same designs over and over. Mandalas, skulls, arrows, even the obligatory pop culture references. Sure, the combinations might be different, but the elements are the same—pulled from the same well of trendy ideas that have been circulating on Instagram for years. It’s the illusion of uniqueness, a superficial marker that’s supposed to set you apart but really just slots you into a different, highly predictable category.
And yet, people continue to buy into it. They walk out of the parlor with their fresh ink, feeling like they’ve made some profound statement about who they are, when all they’ve really done is purchase the latest in a long line of aesthetic trends. It’s branding, pure and simple—branding your body with symbols that are supposed to represent your inner self, but in reality, are just the visual equivalent of a pop existentialist slogan.
The tattoo industry knows this, of course. It thrives on the myth that each tattoo is a one-of-a-kind expression, when in reality, it’s just another product to be sold. The space for true originality within modern tattoo culture is shrinking, not expanding. The designs are different, but the message is the same: "Look at me, I’m unique." But how unique can you be when millions of others are broadcasting the exact same message?
What’s even more ironic is that in this pursuit of individuality, people are often blind to the fact that they’re just following another trend. It’s a herd mentality with a different aesthetic, where the drive to be different results in everyone looking the same. Tattoos, once a sign of rebellion, have become a symbol of conformity—proof that even the most personal forms of expression can be co-opted by consumer culture.
So, the next time someone shows off their "unique" tattoo, take a closer look. Is it really a reflection of their inner self, or just the latest chapter in the book of cultural clichés? More often than not, it’s the latter—an illusion of individuality in a world where true uniqueness is increasingly hard to come by.
The Contrast: Embracing the Ordinary in Warrior Cultures, Japanese Philosophy, and Modern Tech Startups
While the masses chase after superficial markers of uniqueness, there’s a quieter, more profound approach to individuality that’s been around for centuries—one that embraces the ordinary, the disciplined, and the shared standards that define true mastery. It’s not about standing out for the sake of it; it’s about achieving excellence within a framework that’s bigger than yourself.
Take warrior cultures, for instance. The samurai in feudal Japan didn’t strive to be unique; they strived to perfect their craft. Swordsmanship wasn’t about flashy moves or self-expression—it was about discipline, repetition, and mastering a set of skills that had been passed down through generations, or carefully honed as an individual (picrel). There was a standard to be met, a code to follow, and in meeting that standard, a samurai found his place among equals. True, there were different ranks and fortunes, but within the dojo, the sword was the great equalizer. It wasn’t about being different; it was about being excellent.
Japanese philosophy, especially concepts like *wabi-sabi* and *shibumi*, takes this even further. *Wabi-sabi* is all about finding beauty in imperfection, in the worn and the weathered. It’s an appreciation for the ordinary, the understated, the things that don’t scream for attention but hold a quiet power. *Shibumi*, on the other hand, is the idea of effortless perfection—achieving a state of refined simplicity that’s so deeply ingrained in who you are that it becomes second nature. It’s not about showing off; it’s about embodying a quality so deeply that it speaks for itself.
Now, let’s fast forward to the present and look at modern tech startups. On the surface, these might seem like the breeding grounds for the kind of superficial individualism we’ve been criticizing, but there’s a deeper current here. The best developers, the most successful entrepreneurs—they aren’t just chasing the latest trend. They’re playing long games, compounding their skills, building on shared knowledge, and respecting the craft of problem-solving. Sure, they’re all working on different projects, but they share an ethos—an understanding that the problems they’re solving might be similar, but the way they apply their skills and ideas is where their true uniqueness lies.
In these environments, individuality isn’t about being the loudest or the most eccentric. It’s about mastery, about contributing something of real value within the frameworks that exist. The respect here isn’t earned by how different you are; it’s earned by how well you understand the game and how effectively you play it. In a way, it’s the same principle that guided the samurai—true individuality comes not from breaking the mold, but from mastering it.
respect is earned by how well you understand the game and how effectively you play it
So, while the world around us continues to push the idea that you need to stand out, that you need to be different in some superficial way, there’s something to be said for embracing the ordinary. For understanding that true mastery, true individuality, doesn’t come from what you wear, say, or buy, but from what you do and how well you do it. It’s not about chasing after uniqueness; it’s about letting it find you through the disciplined pursuit of excellence.
Aristotelian *Techne*: The Power of Compounding Skills
If there’s one thing the ancients understood better than we do today, it’s the value of *techne*—the art of skillful craft, the mastery of technique. Aristotle didn’t just see *techne* as a way to get things done; he saw it as a path to true excellence. And here’s the thing: in a world obsessed with quick fixes and instant gratification, the idea of slowly, methodically building up your skills—of playing the long game—has never been more radical.
*Techne* isn’t about one-off achievements or flashy displays of talent. It’s about the process, the discipline, the accumulation of skills over time. It’s about compounding your knowledge and expertise in a way that leads to exponential growth. Think of it like investing—not in stocks or crypto, but in yourself. The more you put in, the more you get out, and over time, those small gains add up to something far greater than the sum of their parts.
This is where the real power lies. While the world is busy selling you on the idea that uniqueness can be bought or worn, *techne* reminds us that true individuality is earned. It’s not about what you have, but about what you do—day in and day out. It’s about mastering your craft, whatever that may be, and allowing your skills to set you apart in ways that are both meaningful and lasting.
The idea of playing compounding games with your skills isn’t just an ancient concept; it’s the foundation of success in any field, from swordsmanship to software development. In both, the goal isn’t just to be good—it’s to keep getting better. To learn, to refine, to iterate. It’s about understanding that the journey doesn’t end once you’ve reached a certain level; that’s just the beginning. True mastery is a lifelong pursuit, one that rewards patience, persistence, and a deep respect for the craft.
In contrast, think about the things that are often sold as markers of uniqueness today—tattoos, fashion, slogans. They’re surface-level, momentary. They don’t build on each other; they don’t compound. They offer a quick hit of identity, but no real substance. They’re about appearing unique, not about actually becoming unique.
Aristotle’s *techne* shows us a different path. It’s a path that requires commitment, dedication, and a willingness to play the long game. But in the end, it’s the only path that leads to true individuality—an individuality that can’t be bought, copied, or faked. It’s about becoming the best version of yourself, not just the most different. It’s about standing out because of what you’ve achieved, not because of how you’ve chosen to decorate yourself.
So, while the world chases after the next big thing, the next quick fix, the next superficial marker of uniqueness, remember the power of *techne*. Remember that real individuality is forged in the fires of skill and mastery. It’s not about what you can show off today; it’s about what you’re building for tomorrow.
Conclusion: Embracing True Individuality
So here we are, at the end of the road, where the truth stands bare: individuality, real individuality, isn’t something you can buy, wear, or even declare. It’s something you build. It’s not found in the superficial trappings of pop existentialism or the ink on your skin. It’s found in the slow, deliberate mastery of your craft, in the disciplined pursuit of excellence, and in the embrace of who you truly are—without the need to scream it to the world.
Nietzsche was right when he said, “Become who you are.” But let’s not mistake his words for a call to chase after every fleeting trend or to adorn ourselves with symbols that lose their meaning the moment they’re copied. No, what he was really urging us to do was to look inward, to understand that our circumstances, our challenges, our skills, are the raw materials from which true individuality is forged.
We’ve seen the contrast: the shallow pursuit of uniqueness through consumerism versus the deep, rewarding path of *techne*. The world will keep selling you on the former because it’s easy, because it’s profitable, because it’s something you can pick up and put down at will. But if you really want to stand apart—if you want to be more than just another face in the crowd—you have to choose the latter. You have to commit to the long game, to the compounding of your skills, to the quiet, unglamorous work that leads to true mastery.
In a society obsessed with the idea of being special, the real rebellion is to embrace the ordinary, to find value in the everyday, and to let your uniqueness emerge naturally from the work you do. It’s not about trying to be different; it’s about being the best at what you choose to do, no matter how mundane or unremarkable it may seem to others.
So, here’s the call to action: stop chasing after the illusions of individuality that the world dangles in front of you. Instead, turn inward. Focus on your craft, your discipline, your path. Let your individuality be a byproduct of your excellence, not a product of your consumption. In the end, true individuality isn’t about standing out; it’s about standing firm in who you are and what you’ve mastered. And that, more than anything else, is what will set you apart.