Learing About Life...
My mother and I have recently gotten our hands on a copy of the first season of Third Watch. And so, we've been sitting on the couch and watching episode after episode.
Tonight we watched an episode in which the characters asked each other when they learned that life doesn't turn out the way you want it to. And I thought to myself, what an interesting question.
For the last several years, I've been meandering about in this life wondering when it was going to take shape again. I was once a person who had faith in this life, that with hard work one could make happen what he or she wants to make happen. I once believed in true love *swoon* and endings that truly were happily ever after.
When I was nineteen, all of these ideas blew up in my face, slapping me swiftly and soundly, and left me laying in a heap on my mother's living room floor.
I can proudly say that it has been some time now since I've lain in a heap on the floor: My more recent breakdowns are apt to leave me on the couch with Dixie or in the barn with Zydo than they are to leave me on the floor. (This gives me hope, because clearly my breakdowns of late have been of a lesser variety than breakdowns of the past. I now lay on the couch in a heap; read: I've elevated myself up off the floor an on to modern-day furnishings.)
Because I am such a curious person, I had to ask my mother when it was that she learned that life doesn't turn out the way you want it to. She blinked at me several times, and answered by saying that she supposed she learned that when she was fifty three.
And now I'm sitting here at my computer, baffled and wondering as to which is worse. Is it worse to live your whole life the way you wanted to live it, and then find out through cancer that things don't go the way they are supposed to? Or is it worse to wake up one day, young and with a sparkle in one's eyes, to be whacked about the head with the fact that sometimes, shit doesn't go down the way you think it is supposed to?
And I'm sitting here focussing on which is worse, and really, I think the question is which is better....
Like, with my newfound cynical self, am I better off and less likely to be tripped up by foolish ideals?
So, I really can't decide if I'm better off for having learned the hard lessons fast and young, or if I'm worse off for having the youthful idealism slapped out of me at a young age.
At any rate, it's been a long, long day here at The Ranch, and perhaps I'm not really interested in mulling these thoughts over at all. Perhaps I just need to curl my lazy self up into my luxurious flannel sheets and drift off into slumber, thinking that nothing really matters at all; as long as you have a cozy and safe little haven -- one that you can call your own-- to curl up into at the end of the day.
Tonight we watched an episode in which the characters asked each other when they learned that life doesn't turn out the way you want it to. And I thought to myself, what an interesting question.
For the last several years, I've been meandering about in this life wondering when it was going to take shape again. I was once a person who had faith in this life, that with hard work one could make happen what he or she wants to make happen. I once believed in true love *swoon* and endings that truly were happily ever after.
When I was nineteen, all of these ideas blew up in my face, slapping me swiftly and soundly, and left me laying in a heap on my mother's living room floor.
I can proudly say that it has been some time now since I've lain in a heap on the floor: My more recent breakdowns are apt to leave me on the couch with Dixie or in the barn with Zydo than they are to leave me on the floor. (This gives me hope, because clearly my breakdowns of late have been of a lesser variety than breakdowns of the past. I now lay on the couch in a heap; read: I've elevated myself up off the floor an on to modern-day furnishings.)
Because I am such a curious person, I had to ask my mother when it was that she learned that life doesn't turn out the way you want it to. She blinked at me several times, and answered by saying that she supposed she learned that when she was fifty three.
And now I'm sitting here at my computer, baffled and wondering as to which is worse. Is it worse to live your whole life the way you wanted to live it, and then find out through cancer that things don't go the way they are supposed to? Or is it worse to wake up one day, young and with a sparkle in one's eyes, to be whacked about the head with the fact that sometimes, shit doesn't go down the way you think it is supposed to?
And I'm sitting here focussing on which is worse, and really, I think the question is which is better....
Like, with my newfound cynical self, am I better off and less likely to be tripped up by foolish ideals?
So, I really can't decide if I'm better off for having learned the hard lessons fast and young, or if I'm worse off for having the youthful idealism slapped out of me at a young age.
At any rate, it's been a long, long day here at The Ranch, and perhaps I'm not really interested in mulling these thoughts over at all. Perhaps I just need to curl my lazy self up into my luxurious flannel sheets and drift off into slumber, thinking that nothing really matters at all; as long as you have a cozy and safe little haven -- one that you can call your own-- to curl up into at the end of the day.
posted by Amanda at 01:37
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home