Thursday, February 17, 2005
It's true. I'm a half-assed believer.
One who only likes to believe this stuff when it's convenient. Like if I were on a fantastic date with the sexiest man alive, and he was giving me the eyes, and we were at a Chinese restaurant where my fortune cookie read You're going to get some lovin' tonight. Then, yes, I'd believe it. I'd make it so.
But this is taking it personal:
"People change and forget to tell each other," mourned playwright Lillian Hellman. I bring this thought to your attention, Virgo, because at least one of your relationships now fits this description. It's at a pivotal point when the accumulated changes you have both undergone can no longer remain unspoken. To avoid becoming irrelevant to each other, you must communicate the backlog of truth now. (P.S. I suspect there are actually two relationships like this.)
What am I supposed to do with this? There are two people, in fact. And I didn't really need my horoscope to tell me this. It's just more poignant this way.
The fact is I don't know what to do about it, but I know that pride is worthless in some situations. Many of them when you feel like it matters the most. When you feel like it's the only thing there.
I've taken a nonchalant attitude toward relationships of many sorts. Most of you who read this will no doubt know who both these people are, without having to think hard, but I'm going to refrain from naming them.
The thing is, I've seen enough life that I have adopted this attitude that people move in and out like tides. And it doesn't matter what you would like from your own gravity, if the moon's is stronger.
But I fear that this acceptance, which I once thought was healthy, may not be at all. What if it means that I've become lazy? What if I'm not willing to fight for anything anymore? Not even friendship.
Isn't friendship, true friendship, one of the many virtues that makes life, no matter how complicated it gets, just that much more rich and valuable and conceivable on a day-to-day existence?
I'm learning a new lesson, and it's a really hard one to grasp. It makes me feel so small. It makes me feel so much less than wise.
I used to think that when people change, that's the end of the road. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Sometimes people need to go through phases at their own pace. Sometimes they need to split off in different directions because that is the seemingly lone alternative to standing still.
I don't know why it took so long to occur to me that sometimes one person can go, but they can leave a tie. A tie that can grow. A tie that can be learned from.
It's just that it takes so long to build them; I guess it just seemed more healthy to cut them loose rather than watch them slowly fray over time.
But what if they didn't have to? What if I gave up? What if these what-ifs will never end? And they'll keep circling in my head while I'll think about all the what might have beens and dream about the lives these people I cared so much about are having, and wonder if I closed a door in a youthful haste disguised in a fog of false maturity.
One who only likes to believe this stuff when it's convenient. Like if I were on a fantastic date with the sexiest man alive, and he was giving me the eyes, and we were at a Chinese restaurant where my fortune cookie read You're going to get some lovin' tonight. Then, yes, I'd believe it. I'd make it so.
But this is taking it personal:
"People change and forget to tell each other," mourned playwright Lillian Hellman. I bring this thought to your attention, Virgo, because at least one of your relationships now fits this description. It's at a pivotal point when the accumulated changes you have both undergone can no longer remain unspoken. To avoid becoming irrelevant to each other, you must communicate the backlog of truth now. (P.S. I suspect there are actually two relationships like this.)
What am I supposed to do with this? There are two people, in fact. And I didn't really need my horoscope to tell me this. It's just more poignant this way.
The fact is I don't know what to do about it, but I know that pride is worthless in some situations. Many of them when you feel like it matters the most. When you feel like it's the only thing there.
I've taken a nonchalant attitude toward relationships of many sorts. Most of you who read this will no doubt know who both these people are, without having to think hard, but I'm going to refrain from naming them.
The thing is, I've seen enough life that I have adopted this attitude that people move in and out like tides. And it doesn't matter what you would like from your own gravity, if the moon's is stronger.
But I fear that this acceptance, which I once thought was healthy, may not be at all. What if it means that I've become lazy? What if I'm not willing to fight for anything anymore? Not even friendship.
Isn't friendship, true friendship, one of the many virtues that makes life, no matter how complicated it gets, just that much more rich and valuable and conceivable on a day-to-day existence?
I'm learning a new lesson, and it's a really hard one to grasp. It makes me feel so small. It makes me feel so much less than wise.
I used to think that when people change, that's the end of the road. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Sometimes people need to go through phases at their own pace. Sometimes they need to split off in different directions because that is the seemingly lone alternative to standing still.
I don't know why it took so long to occur to me that sometimes one person can go, but they can leave a tie. A tie that can grow. A tie that can be learned from.
It's just that it takes so long to build them; I guess it just seemed more healthy to cut them loose rather than watch them slowly fray over time.
But what if they didn't have to? What if I gave up? What if these what-ifs will never end? And they'll keep circling in my head while I'll think about all the what might have beens and dream about the lives these people I cared so much about are having, and wonder if I closed a door in a youthful haste disguised in a fog of false maturity.
1 Comments:
Someone once said that pasts that didn't happen are futures that never will. You have always done what you thought best, even if you anticipated negative consequences. It might be time that you confront your past choices, but show no regret. Accept the path you have chosen, and start from there. You are where you are.
In my case, I've been in a lot of stupid relationships and done a lot of stupid things. But I'm sitting at home in my pajamas on a Sunday afternoon and I'm going to eat a red pear and do some homework, and that sounds like one helluva future to me. :)
By 
, at
11:08 AM
