It's a bird.
Mar 8, 2012 1:23:55 GMT -5
Post by Robin Douglas on Mar 8, 2012 1:23:55 GMT -5
I have been doing a lot of reflecting lately on the very abrupt changes that I have made in my life. Abrupt is absolutely the right word for them.
High school isn’t forever. I remember that Aunt Carol told me that sophomore year after a bad breakup, a failed audition, and the unfortunate demise of a white pair of pants in a very public setting. I must have been desperate, and I know this because clearly I called Aunt Carol. The point is that this statement is evidently a lie. High school isn’t forever, but high school comes back and gets you roughly twelve years later. When I think about it this way I know that I should be disappointed, but honestly I’m not.
I feel like I should be mad that I gave New York City twelve years of my life and it just didn’t work out. I feel like I should be mad that I’m going back to Vermont, but I’m not. I never had any intention of becoming a teacher, ever, but it seems like this could actually work out for me.
I am aware that my over all joy is very hasty. I have come up for two reasons for this.
1. After twelve years it just feels nice to have a steady job. I am thirty and I just don’t want to run around and compete with kids right out of college anymore. I am done with the big city but I’m not ready to be fielded out to the suburbs, so this medium is pretty much perfect.
2. Nostalgia. Just plain, subversive, all consuming levels of Nostalgia. (because despite that one previous example my high school days were pretty good.)
I think that the hardest part will be slowing down. Slowing down has always been harder for me than speeding up. Maybe it has something to do with my power or maybe it is just in my nature, but this isn’t the place for a whirlwind. I know that part of that desire might be because I feel like I haven’t changed since high school. I feel like I should be able to look back and see some kind of shift in where I was to where I am, but I just don’t. I still do the same things, I still have a lot of the same interests, and I am now back in the same place. I’m still high school Robin, except now I know how to do my own taxes.
I know that I have gone through changes, but they all seem so minor. My marriage should have been a bigger deal, same with my divorce but honestly I just was kind of pissed for a while. I got over it, it wasn’t even an issue of healing. I didn’t need to heal because it really just wasn’t right in the first place, so in my case no harm no foul. Sometimes I feel like a jerk because I’m not more upset about all of that but I can’t help but feel like I loved more deeply in high school. I fell in love with theater there in a way that I’ve never felt free to love it since. New York was supposed to be the ultimate of that, but I was too busy being scared shitless. At least I’ll never wonder what would happen if I just went for it, because boy did I go for it, it just didn’t go for me.
I think my point is that I just don’t feel comfortable with the role that failure has taken so far in my life. New York failed, Colin and I failed, there are so many things at which I failed, and yet I don’t feel all that much misery or disappointment. I know that should be a godsend but it isn’t. It is the whole idea of balance that makes me worry. If I can’t feel failure then how will know success? How can I even achieve success? I don’t want to gradually fade out here and then suddenly move on. I’ve acted this kind of thing out enough to know what it is, it’s the search for meaning. That is such an abstract concept that I don’t even know how to approach it, so for the time being I won’t.
I will just be thankful for my job and the fact that white pants are not in style.
High school isn’t forever. I remember that Aunt Carol told me that sophomore year after a bad breakup, a failed audition, and the unfortunate demise of a white pair of pants in a very public setting. I must have been desperate, and I know this because clearly I called Aunt Carol. The point is that this statement is evidently a lie. High school isn’t forever, but high school comes back and gets you roughly twelve years later. When I think about it this way I know that I should be disappointed, but honestly I’m not.
I feel like I should be mad that I gave New York City twelve years of my life and it just didn’t work out. I feel like I should be mad that I’m going back to Vermont, but I’m not. I never had any intention of becoming a teacher, ever, but it seems like this could actually work out for me.
I am aware that my over all joy is very hasty. I have come up for two reasons for this.
1. After twelve years it just feels nice to have a steady job. I am thirty and I just don’t want to run around and compete with kids right out of college anymore. I am done with the big city but I’m not ready to be fielded out to the suburbs, so this medium is pretty much perfect.
2. Nostalgia. Just plain, subversive, all consuming levels of Nostalgia. (because despite that one previous example my high school days were pretty good.)
I think that the hardest part will be slowing down. Slowing down has always been harder for me than speeding up. Maybe it has something to do with my power or maybe it is just in my nature, but this isn’t the place for a whirlwind. I know that part of that desire might be because I feel like I haven’t changed since high school. I feel like I should be able to look back and see some kind of shift in where I was to where I am, but I just don’t. I still do the same things, I still have a lot of the same interests, and I am now back in the same place. I’m still high school Robin, except now I know how to do my own taxes.
I know that I have gone through changes, but they all seem so minor. My marriage should have been a bigger deal, same with my divorce but honestly I just was kind of pissed for a while. I got over it, it wasn’t even an issue of healing. I didn’t need to heal because it really just wasn’t right in the first place, so in my case no harm no foul. Sometimes I feel like a jerk because I’m not more upset about all of that but I can’t help but feel like I loved more deeply in high school. I fell in love with theater there in a way that I’ve never felt free to love it since. New York was supposed to be the ultimate of that, but I was too busy being scared shitless. At least I’ll never wonder what would happen if I just went for it, because boy did I go for it, it just didn’t go for me.
I think my point is that I just don’t feel comfortable with the role that failure has taken so far in my life. New York failed, Colin and I failed, there are so many things at which I failed, and yet I don’t feel all that much misery or disappointment. I know that should be a godsend but it isn’t. It is the whole idea of balance that makes me worry. If I can’t feel failure then how will know success? How can I even achieve success? I don’t want to gradually fade out here and then suddenly move on. I’ve acted this kind of thing out enough to know what it is, it’s the search for meaning. That is such an abstract concept that I don’t even know how to approach it, so for the time being I won’t.
I will just be thankful for my job and the fact that white pants are not in style.
