This week…I’ve been ridiculously busy. I’m exhausted. I’m ready to take like a 2-day-long nap in my bed, with my cat and a giant body pillow curled up next to me. I’ve been doing everything I don’t normally do. See other people, stay up too late, buy beer, and take photos and pictures and art off the walls of my apartment (If you haven’t been to the apartment, I’m kind of a photo/art hoarder and every wall of it is covered in something – BUT NOT ANYMORE, I’M BARE AS A NAKED BABY!). I really want to write a blog about how fast life can change. How you assume you’re on one track and doing one thing and then WABAM you’re slapped into a whole other century, eternity, decision, personality. Just anything, really. And then, I decided instead of a blog, I wanted to write a poem about it. I don’t really post poems to my blog because literary magazines consider that first publication. HOWEVER. I do plan on answering the plinky.com question of the week. which is…..
What part of life confuses the most?
Well, what part of life DOESN’T confuse me is a better question. And how many parts of life are we talking about here; death, birth, love, lust, morals, religion, ignorance, purity, vivacity…..I could come up with many more adjectives, or many more confusing parts like POLITICS, but what good would that do the answer of this question, anyhow. (On a side note, to politics, what is so confusing about this is that everyone in the world has a totally different view about how or what this is. We, as Americans, live in a democracy and it may seem ridiculous at times COUGHre-election of George ‘Ears McGee’ BushCOUGH, but it also may seem brilliant to people who are living under the tyranny of a dictator. And this is the most confusing part about politics. NOT TO MENTION, those boring debates where one nominee tries to talk louder then the other, OR the 5 hours I spent watching a boardroom and graying men and women come to NO conclusions about the new health care bill on live television and instead wordily dance around the topic. Etc, etc, etc or I won’t shut up. And this, my friends, is not even the most confusing part of life).
I think the VERY most confusing part of life is WHAT THE HELL TO DO WITH IT. Here we are, given different amounts of years, never really knowing when life is going to be taken from us and we have to decide what to squeeze and cramp in to our daily lives in order to make the 2, 23, 77, or 94 years we’re given worth it. And then we have the all-encompassing question, of WHAT MAKES IT WORTH IT. Well, here’s another little confusing piece of the puzzle….that’s a different answer for everyone. If you ask a circus performer if their job is fulfilling making small little girls smile and laugh at clowns all day, I’d bet they say yes. And here I am, thinking my crammed and hoarder apartment is quite fulfilling, as is typing this blog right now instead of being out and tramping around the in the early night heat. But that’s not even the beginning of confusing.
You’re sent to school from age 5 (maybe before if you’re an evil genius like my nephew) and told that you have to start deciding what you want to be. When I was five, I was told to write down where I see myself at the age of 18 and graduating from high school. I wrote I’d like to be a vet. Yes, I love animals. Yes, I like helping others and cry every time an animal dies in a movie (I seriously still can’t watch fox and the hound, it’s really an issue), but hells-to-the-no I do not still want to be a vet when I turn 18 and get this little letter in my diploma. I hate science, loathe science. I believe if you can do it, that’s awesome, knock yourself out in your spiffy lab coat, but my brain doesn’t work that way. Being a vet would not only take training that I’m never willing to do, but it also would suck every bit of life out of me because I never see that many people on a daily basis.
When I was eight, I wrote this mother’s day essay (for a contest) and won an honorable mention. Did I think then…maybe someday I’d like to write an epic novel that changes girls lives everywhere. No. No, I did not. In high school, when I wrote poems and thought I was awesome, and everyone else in my class was pretty rad too (especially Sandy who sat next to me and had no confidence, but was absolutely brilliant and beautiful and that’s what made her so special) did I even then think I wanted to write? No. I was still stuck on being a youth minister because at that point, religion was number one in my life. (No, mother, I am not saying it isn’t still. It may have taken a back burner to love, or the constant nerve endings in my fingers needing to write something of a masterpiece. But I still care, sorry God. Thanks, Catholic guilt for this one. geez).
When I first went white water rafting, caving and rappelling in the summer of 2007, or learned how to belay on a tower and was the first girl at camp to climb it period. (Yes, I’m holding on to that title, it’s badass and my names in the book to prove it), did it make me feel alive? Yes. Do I want to do it again? Yes. Do I think I will often and turn any of it into a life’s goal? Probably not, except maybe kayaking because I freaking love it.
And then there’s all the things you want to do…but know you never will. I think the key of getting older, is slowly admitting to yourself that you just aren’t going to do these things and then accepting the loss. My journal told me to write something down on a piece of paper, throw it in a trash and accept the loss. I have yet to do this exercise because I let go of …well, nothing. ever. really. But, it’s fantastic advice. You have to accept that you probably won’t get done with everything you want to get done on life’s to-do list. So, you just take it one step at a time and cross off the things that are opportune, or really make you happy, or honestly, just are convenient. At the time, of camp, during those two summers, it was convenient and thrilling to hike, but I haven’t been since and I’m pretty sure it’s time to accept that loss. I’m still refusing, but I’m admitting I have a problem.
Instead of looking at all the losses though, think of all the gains. I’ve white water rafted, like 6 times, and no one can take that from me. I danced in the stacks to Michael Buble before I graduated from NCSU this May. I’m applying to graduate school. I have taken care of a cat, mostly by myself for the last two years. I’ve lost a ton of friends, not because I didn’t love them, but because I learned to better myself and learned to grow up. I’ve done things I’ve regretted and then I’ve regretted them – confusing part of life, but also something everyone pretty much does. Life is all a big mess of confusing paradoxes shoved together into one human that’s told to figure them out in however many years they have. Well, I’m standing here, saying, no. I refuse to figure all this shit out. I’m just going to leave it hanging all around me on little metaphorical hoarding strings and run through it in all my glorious confusion and do whatever I want, any day I want.
And if this blog wasn’t the most confusing part of my life, then I don’t know what is. :)
On a side note to everything I said, I also really liked “ChrissyPants” answer; Monogamy and depriving oneself of self discovery.
Isn’t the moral code a spoiled brat folks?