People are Strange

I have one of those lives people wish they could live. Now, I don't mean to sound vain or egotistical or whatever but it's just kind of true. I have had a constant stream of boyfriends since I was 14, I've traveled the world, went to private school, am an only child, have financially stable and loving parents who are paying for my schooling, I'm reasonably attractive, naturally smart, naturally athletic, and have experienced most of what anyone my age has of life.

It sounds good. Looks good on paper, even. Not that I've had any life-shaking tragedies or even minor tragedies come to think of it. Everything has pretty much worked out. Heck, I've even got a job practically lined up for me out of college and for a theater major that means a hell of a lot. So what's the problem you ask?

Nothing. Nothing is the "problem." If I have learned anything in nearly 20 years it's that there is rarely a problem. Most of the time it's just a stream of things ranging from kinda cool to mildly unpleasant and what's cool or unpleasant is determined by the owner of the life.

The truth is, yes there are people starving or illiterate or diseased or unemployed or all of the above but I can't know their experiences, can't know what bad days are like in their world. So when I have an exceptionally bad day, the most inconsiderate thing someone can do is compare it to anyone else's bad day. It doesn't make me feel better or appreciate what I have, it makes me feel like my sadness or anger is misplaced and how dare I have an unhappy feeling when I am doing so well?

Lives are relative, so even the person you envy for their beauty will look in the mirror and find ugliness. Even the man with the most power will at times feel unimportant. The man with no food will appreciate a sandwich that much more and the mother with no job will savor her first paycheck.

Maybe this is a rambling, weaving lesson but I learn it over and over again. Don't take anyone's feelings for granted. What I want to say here is "try to understand" but that doesn't work either. What's important to one person can make them feel something nobody else can because that experience is uniquely theirs, so how can you possibly "understand?"

So, let me rephrase: try to accept. Accept that whatever is going on in their life is worth the stress. Accept that their struggles might be less than yours, so a small struggle will mean more. Accept that their accomplishments might be less than yours, so minor achievements are significant. Accept that though you can't understand what they're going through: it's valid. Because how else would they live their lives?
Sure, if you were me you would do different things... because you wouldn't be me. We don't hold the same things dear, don't have the same reservations. So I can't fully understand you and you can't fully understand me.

All we can do is have faith that we're all doing what seems like the best idea at the time. Not that we're being the best people or making the best decisions, but everyone has reasons you can't know. Respect their reasons.

Fool on the Hill

Did you ever have that thing, that one something that made you feel immortal? Something that stimulated your imagination and no matter what let you feel like everything was going to be ok- no, that everything was going to be PERFECT from now on. The memory fades if left alone too long but then you can always come back and it always welcomes you with open arms and a smile and holds you and strokes your hair as it says "Listen, just listen to me and you'll see how beautiful things are again." And for the rest of the day, you're on a cloud. Floating, reveling in the joy and bliss of life in the simplest way because it has always been this simple, you just forgot.

Mine is Fool on the Hill by Matt Ruff. I read this book about a year ago. Read it in about one day, soaked it all in like a plant with soil dry as sand and I have loved it ever since.

Last term there was some crappy stuff going on and my book was lent to my ex-boyfriend in what seemed to be a last-ditch effort to connect with me. He kept it the entire term and I just got it back. Now, I'm not a big re-reader of books- not that I'm opposed to the idea, in fact I think I'd enjoy it, I just never have- except for this one. This one I read again. Just open up to a part and go and, no matter what, the words and those people and that unshakeable sense of magic tingling, tangible in the air will bring me right back to the very top of the world.

I just wish I'd had this book last term. I needed some magic then, but better late than never. Welcome back, my friend. I missed you.

Up till 2

So this evening my boyfriend fell asleep while watching Buffy The Vampire Slayer and I figure that since he has to wake up at 5 am to fart at the sun as it rises each morning I can let him sleep. Usually, I am all too happy to fall asleep and dream about being a waitress who is unable to stop spinning as I serve creme puffs with my bare hands (TRUE STORY), but not tonight. Tonight, Evan is snoring like a hive of bees singing Carmina Burana from inside an elephant's trunk as the elephant chokes on pond water. It's got that nice gurgle of mucus bubbles flapping and everything.

At some points his breath wanes to "I think he's dead" only to rise back up again as the bees are buzzing "OOO FORTUNAAAA" loud enough to drown out the fans at the World Cup. He's blaming it on the fact that the Willamette valley currently has the highest pollen count IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD and I'm blaming it on the fact that he played Dungeons and Dragons today and breathing like a fat kid is just a side-effect of eating five bags of chips and six Mountain Dews in four hours.

Follow this with the occasional snorted word (the last one was "sewer poles" I think) and I know I'm not sleeping tonight.