I own a sofa
...aned it is a bizarre feeling.
I'm realising slowly that as I grow older, more cynical and less spiritual, that I can't remember my nebulous childhood dreams. You know, the ones where you reckon you'll be playing football for the national team, or exploring regions of space, being a fireman or prime minister or any of the thousand possibilities that occur before effort is needed. The only things one I kinda remember is wanting to be the cleverest person, ever. Some kind of knowledgeable guru, the one everyone pays due respect and homage to, who can hand down knowledge from on high.
I eventually worked out that this was not exactly something to win me friends. Patronizing, much? Yup. I was no doubt pretty insufferable, but it gave me a certain drive to achieve, academically. The kind to be measured by an exam, of stuff you know or can work out using the rules. Life unfortunately isn't like that, and half the time I rage against myself and those adults who were around me for lulling me into that false sense of security.
Thing is, life isn't like a simple maths problem, or an hypothesis refuted by a designed experiment, or an essay where you argue two sides. It's a freakish amalgamation of chances, opportunities and craziness that doesn't make any sense a lot of the time. I miss out on a lot through emotional inertia, but I know that the life I have now is partly the life I have made.
I'm all growed up, and certainly am not the person I dreamed I would be. Who is? I've gone balding, I've grown a beard, I don't own a car because I chose 2 wheels instead, and most of the people I have known, are people I have known and not people with whom I currently talk. There will be no enduring legacy, and this is not a bad thing.
I own a sofa. I own a bed. I actually live somewhere now. And I'm of the age my parents were when they met, married, and travelled off around the globe. Full-on weird.
I'm realising slowly that as I grow older, more cynical and less spiritual, that I can't remember my nebulous childhood dreams. You know, the ones where you reckon you'll be playing football for the national team, or exploring regions of space, being a fireman or prime minister or any of the thousand possibilities that occur before effort is needed. The only things one I kinda remember is wanting to be the cleverest person, ever. Some kind of knowledgeable guru, the one everyone pays due respect and homage to, who can hand down knowledge from on high.
I eventually worked out that this was not exactly something to win me friends. Patronizing, much? Yup. I was no doubt pretty insufferable, but it gave me a certain drive to achieve, academically. The kind to be measured by an exam, of stuff you know or can work out using the rules. Life unfortunately isn't like that, and half the time I rage against myself and those adults who were around me for lulling me into that false sense of security.
Thing is, life isn't like a simple maths problem, or an hypothesis refuted by a designed experiment, or an essay where you argue two sides. It's a freakish amalgamation of chances, opportunities and craziness that doesn't make any sense a lot of the time. I miss out on a lot through emotional inertia, but I know that the life I have now is partly the life I have made.
I'm all growed up, and certainly am not the person I dreamed I would be. Who is? I've gone balding, I've grown a beard, I don't own a car because I chose 2 wheels instead, and most of the people I have known, are people I have known and not people with whom I currently talk. There will be no enduring legacy, and this is not a bad thing.
I own a sofa. I own a bed. I actually live somewhere now. And I'm of the age my parents were when they met, married, and travelled off around the globe. Full-on weird.
posted by J at 1:19 PM
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