Originality Isn’t Dead: Imitation over Influence
Song Of The Week
If you haven’t yet fallen under the spell of Wish I Knew You by The Revivalists, consider this your musical intervention. This track is an irresistible cocktail of soulful rock and indie vibes, topped with a sprinkle of nostalgia that’s impossible to resist.
From the first dusty guitar riff to the chorus you’ll find yourself belting out in your shower (or, hey, maybe even the grocery store aisle), the song captures that universal feeling of regret mixed with a dash of yearning—because who hasn’t wished for a do-over on that “could-have-been” connection?
The Revivalists master a sound that’s equal parts grit and groove, making this tune feel like a warm, late-night conversation with an old friend. It’s catchy, it’s earnest, and it’s got enough heart to mend those broken “what ifs.”
Pop this on your playlist when you’re in the mood for something that’ll get your feet moving and your mind wandering through the bittersweet realm of “I wish I knew you then.” Because sometimes, the best songs are the ones that remind us of what we didn’t know we were missing.
It’s been millions of years
Every night after dinner, once the dishes are finally done and we’re ready to indulge in dessert, my roommates and I head out for a walk around town to help with digestion both physically and mentally. And on these walks, our conversations wander just as much as we do. We go down all kinds of rabbit holes: identity, society, and the occasional wild hypothetical. Pretty much any radical idea is on the table. We joke that if a stranger overheard just a few seconds of our conversations, we’d probably be canceled. But that’s kind of the point– the three of us hold space for each other. It's a safe zone for all the thoughts that don’t always fit neatly into societal norms.
Sometimes the questions we ask come with laughter, especially when we hit a wall and start circling around the same point or when both sides make sense yet interpretation is totally different angles. Other times, things turn existential. Like the night we wondered: could there be another Janessa Shaw out there? Or another Jazmin Flores-Peña? Someone with the same childhood, the same mix of personality and experience? Someone who would turn out exactly the same?
Have we reach the peak?
It’s a weirdly confronting question. Because it makes you sit with your sense of self and wonder what it actually means to be original in a world constantly shaped by influence. We’re all trying to figure out who we are, right? At least, I hope we are. I hope it’s not just me and my roommates out here wondering about the ways we affect each other and how we choose to exist in the world. To get it straight: originality, to me, feels like proof that we really like ourselves. That every quirk, every belief, every layer of our identity matters and shapes the whole. But maybe more importantly, originality is also about resisting whatever mold society tries to force you into. Because every culture, every country, down to each neighborhood, has its own unspoken rules. Its own expectations for how we “should” act, think, dress, speak, live.
Living in the 21st century makes originality even more complicated. Our phones give us access to aaannnnythinnnng—there’s no gatekeeping the internet. Infinite scroll, infinite influence. What used to be private thought is now a performance, shared for validation, virality, or income. And when that much power is sitting there, literally in our hands, people are free to post their views, their lives, their aesthetic, their outrage, all packaged to be consumed. And this shifts our view point on what we actually like and dislike. Greed creeps in, quiet like bacteria but soon will take over the intention behind it all to make a couple bucks. We traded in authenticity for clicks and views. Companies cash in on every insecurity, every niche identity, every longing for uniqueness. And so here we are, trapped in an endless marketplace. It’s not just that we’re influenced. It’s that we’re being trained, day by day, to want what’s already been chosen for us. And then we wonder why originality can feel so slippery.
I don’t want to believe it
But even with all that, I still want to believe in originality. I want to believe that somewhere in the noise, people are still choosing things that are honest to their core. That someone’s still dressing how they want. That someone’s still just to figure life out. That someone’s still using critical thinking skills.
Originality could come down to our genetic markers. Everyone has different codes that passed down through generations that make us walk a certain way, the way we hold pencils a certain way, even talk differently. It’s like that fun fact that no two snowflakes are the same, in some way shape or form every single one is different from the next. Maybe originality isn’t about inventing something entirely new from scratch, but about how we remix it. Originality doesn’t have to mean being untouched by influence. That’s impossible. We’re all influenced. Yet, originality could be about how we respond to that influence. What we take in and we get to push back. We get a choice.
Even in a world designed to put us in categories, there’s still room for divergence. For invention. For an offbeat laugh, a strange hobby, a new way of seeing an old idea. There’s still a space to say, this is mine — and mean it.I think that’s what I’m holding onto. That we’re not just copies. That somewhere beneath the scrolls, the ads, the pressure to perform, there’s something honest and alive. Something unfinished and wildly original.
And maybe the bravest thing we can do is listen for it. Give it space. Let it shape us louder than anything we see online. Maybe it’s about noticing all of it and still deciding to show up as yourself anyway. I don’t know, but I like the latter.
This week’s song is a throwback that takes me straight back to middle school — Wish I Knew You by The Revivalists. Back then, I didn’t have the language for what I was feeling, but this song hit something in me that made me pay attention. It was one of the first times I really noticed music, not just as background noise, but as something layered with emotion, longing, and a kind of searching that I couldn’t yet name. Even now, it reminds me of that early spark the feeling of connecting with something that felt original to me, even if it wasn’t new to the world. It reminds me that sometimes, what resonates most deeply isn’t always about being the first. It’s about being true.
Enjoy This Journey With Me
° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °
Enjoy This Journey With Me ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °
This isn’t the end—just a bookmark in the conversation. Stories don’t really close; they unfold, shift, and find new voices. If this one stirred something in you, let it breathe. Leave a thought, challenge an idea, or carry it forward in your own way. And if you ever feel like wandering through more unfinished thoughts, you know where to find me. Let’s keep the conversation alive. ~XOXO
