I am definitely not a doctor. I haven’t taken a science class since my freshman year and I can convince myself that any ailment in or on my body is probably a tumor. Yet, here I am, self-diagnosing myself once again. I am a neophiliac. There, I said it. Now, let me explain.
According to dictionary.com, a neophiliac is defined in the simplest of terms as, “one who loves new things, novelty.” It was a term first used by Christopher Booker in his book titled, "The Neophiliacs," and it was later popularized by the cult writer, Robert Anton Wilson. The characteristics that define this personality type include the ability to quickly adapt to extreme change, a distaste for tradition or routine, a tendency to become bored quickly with old things, and a desire to experience novelty.
The neophiliac is revolutionary by nature, and actively seeks out new and extreme experiences. They constantly create change in the environment around them, and cannot bear the thought of doing the same thing every day. Upon my discovery of the term neophiliac and what it meant, it was as if my life began to make sense. Suddenly, there was a word for all of the quirky, impulsive, and often drastic decisions that have defined my life thus far.
I can pinpoint the moment where it began to hit me. Towards the end of my senior year of high school, being the indecisive human that I am, I had applied to about 15 schools. All were in the northeast region and were no more than a four or five-hour drive from my home in New York. My friends were doing the same; some were going to Boston, there were a few headed to upstate New York, as well as Maryland, Delaware, and Pennsylvania. I would be lumped in with all of them; living in the same area of the country I always had been. Suddenly, my inner neophiliac kicked in, and I applied to the University of Tampa on a whim for, what I still like to call, “sh*ts and gigs.” I received a phone call within that same week saying that I had been accepted, and I proceeded to say, “Sorry, Dad, I’m going to Florida.” I had never been on my own for more than a weekend, and here I was, ready to pack up my life and live on the opposite end of the country. It definitely was not what anyone had expected, and despite the pleas to have me stay local, I decided that this was a change I needed in my life.
From then on, my life was a constant yes. See a tattoo online that looks cool? Sure, let’s go get it right now. Find an extra $20 in my pocket? I’m getting a piercing. My favorite character on this show has black hair? I will dye my hair black now.Spontaneous road trips? Check. Random nights out in the city? Let’s go. I joined clubs that revolved around topics I knew nothing about, I applied to jobs that were out of my comfort zone, and I went out of my way to place myself in unforeseeable situations.
Life as I know it has now become completely unpredictable. If an activity or experience isn’t obviously hazardous to my physical or mental health, I’ll give it a try. My family and friends don’t bother to ask me what my plans for the day or night are anymore, because they know that I never know what either will bring. And my answer to the question, “Where do you see yourself in 5 years?” is simply a loud laugh in that person’s face.
I have come to the point where I can’t fathom a life of routine. Growing up to live in the same city, with the same person, and with the same job sounds absolutely miserable. Maybe I’ll move around. Maybe I’ll switch careers. Maybe I’ll never settle down. I am constantly craving change. I am constantly expecting the unexpected. What may have started as a single impulsive moment has turned into a full-blown disease. Yet, anything else seems mundane and tiring. So, drive a different way. Try a different restaurant. Visit a different city. Break traditions and make new ones. Release your inner neophiliac, because life is too short to stay the same.
