July 12th, 2003
Flashback
Life is ever-changing, and from day-to-day, hour-to-hour, you’re capable of feeling a thousand different ways. I’m not sure if it’s the same for everyone, but for me I can be so down and miserable…my heart is like a tightly shut flower on a chill autumn night. But as much as I may believe the cold will last forever, there are moments when the sun breaks through. Sometimes all it takes is a romantic movie and a clear mind watching it. I’m 23 years old. In 12 years I’ll be 35. But 12 years ago I was 11. That was seventh grade. The first things I remember about seventh grade are running for student body president and losing to my best friend Dan, who gave me a position as editor of the school paper in consolation. My campaign manager was this girl Abby Swetz who made all these great posters for me with Mike Myers and Dana Carvey telling people to vote for me. She used to turn around real fast and whip her bookbag into me while standing in line and say “oops.” She had big glasses, but she was really pretty, even though she wasn’t the most adolized girl in class. Her and Kathy Kelly and I used to have our picture taken together on field trips. I can’t believe how much of a nerd I looked…huge, thick tortoise shell glasses, hair slicked back, frozen in place by half a bottle of mousse…braces, and 25 different Dallas Cowboys t-shirts.
Twelve was a long time ago it seems, when I don’t really remember worrying about anything other than being struck out at softball in gym class, or if I’d make it out fast enough at the end if the day to get the ‘cool’ seat on the bus home. I wonder if twelve years from now I’ll have such a foggy, smiling memory of what I’m doing now. It’s so weird because having lived through so much heartbreak, joy and stress already, 23 seems like a lot more complicated phase of life. Not that I regret it though. As much as I’m frustrated by the things I wish I had more control over, there are pockets of intensely honest satisfaction. I appreciate everything as it happens, almost as much for the future reminscience as I do know. I wonder if that in itself is a form of worrying or just one step closer to the purity of truly experiencing life. The fact that I give it enough thought to write it down might be condemnation enough. Whatever. I like the gentle tension in my muscles right now. If I’m happy because I’m somewhere between acute realization of the present and starry-eyed dreaming for an idyllic tableau, it’s not important. To live and not regret what one has done, but strive to be kindler, gentler, and more patient because of it…that sounds like a noble ideal to move towards.
My dreams are an amalgamation of over half a dozen serious relationships, dozens of movies and countless fairy tales played through as a child. I attest that I hope to never take love for granted, for it adds meaning to my life I’m incapable of describing…and it leaves me when I don’t expect. But to lower my expectations or cull the torrents of passion from my desperate heart because of the past…when we give up on pure and unrestricted innocent love, don’t we give up on some of the purest principles of humanity? I’m alone, and at times I’m afraid of growing old, past the point of carefree abandon and hope. But, life is a balance of all those things and accepting them. I want to never surrender to routine or cynicism. I hope soon to be sent an angel, but in the meantime I’ll do my best to live somewhere between heaven and earth.
