So I sit here on my sofa starting at an empty room and I think to myself: I should be grading papers. But really what I focus on is that I wish "Smash" would hurry up and start playing because then I could focus on the glitz and the glamour and the story of the young ingenue-in-training, all of which would be a perfect escape from what I'm currently thinking. I like escapes, because they are another way of working on avoiding, and avoidance is important.
So I'm listening to "Breathless" by Dan Wilson and figuring I should say hi.
There's a new film coming out. It's called "Bully." It's a really important movie. And just watching the trailer brings back a lot of memories.
A lot of memories.
We never really outrun or outgrow our pasts, now do we? Instead we carry them with us, as the turtle carries his shell.
I will always be that sensitive kid. It was my weakness and now it's my strength. It's what makes television and movies and books a totally different experience for me than it is for most people. It's what makes me see through to issues and morals that others don't carry with them. It's what makes my life more difficult and more complicated. It's also what makes me hate confrontation and feel like my only option is to shut down when it comes to that. I don't cry anymore, but I laugh...nervously. Nervous laughter is my weapon of choice because I still don't have the tools for more sophisticated ones.
I find it ironic that I teach 7th grade. That was the worst grade of my existence, the loneliest grade of my existence, the year of my life I would never repeat over, not for all the money in the world. It's like in this, too, God takes my hand and shapes my life and says that out of ashes there will come the phoenix, and all things build on one another.
Because in my life, they always do. Don't they, God. Everything is just another step to take me to the next level in the drama in which I star.
Some days I see that fully, understand it, respect it, work with it. Other days I struggle.
There are the days where I feel like crying, but instead I laugh. In the face of an absurd and difficult existence, I laugh. I feel like Gandalf at the maw of the bridge. "You shall not pass," I declare to my Balrog. "I shall conquer you." I wander through catacombs and mazes in search of the path that will finally lead me out of here and into somewhere brighter. I will get there through sheer effort of will and of course, with Your help.
I have my "The Show Must Go On" days where I wonder, "Empty spaces- what are we living for?" But in the end, as always, I concede to the song and determine that indeed, the show must go on, the curtain must rise, and it's time to dance my way across the stage again. (To be sure, I sometimes invoke a bit of the Black Swan when I do so. No one ever pegged me for a cooperative mortal.)
Let there be meaning! is my warcry. For in the absence of any, I find that I fade.
Thanks for the lessons,