I Might Regret This Later
My father said, “I think the best course for you is California.” And I’ve thought about it -- I’ve even looked into UCLA and USC for an M.F.A. in Creative Writing. No it’s not a M.B.A. or Law Degree [both things I have looked into in the past], but more importantly it is a direction. But I’m leaning away from it -– not the degree, but the geography even though there are quality people residing there.
Get money, they said -- it will make you happy. I did but the happiness probably came from the booze and jet lag.
Get a house, they said -- it’s a great investment. But I find myself just getting things to cover up the blank walls and the empty space. New bills like gas line repairs. New chores like shoveling a driveway that has a grass divider. Cutting the grass every few days because it just won’t stop raining. Remembering that it’s trash day –- Lord, I miss apartment complex dumpsters.
Now they say, go to California -- it will make me happy, and forgive me when I question it. It might be because it doesn’t feel like my own idea.
But worst yet, I have these fears that I might be going out there for the wrong reasons –- for fear that it might be for Jennifer. Even though we’ve decided to be only friends, but then those sad clichés ring in your ears: What if we had a second chance? What if things were different? What if you were here or I was there? What if? I hate “what ifs,” they make you believe you’re a failure for not bending. They make you feel like you’re being punished. They make you feel like your own life isn’t good enough. And then slowly, without your own knowledge, you begin to choke yourself on these “what ifs” that have linked themselves together, making its way over the support beam, and crocheting a loop.
It’s difficult to be content –- let alone happy with yourself when you find yourself just pleasing other people. Then to abandon that notion and then ask yourself –- what makes you happy, even though your happiness may tread on the happiness of others? And simply, it is to be honest with yourself and not to sound cliché, special, or even worse –- a good person. What is it that I want? I’d like to be a writing teacher –- to give what my teachers gave me. To feed off of them, the way they would feed off of me: a symbiotic, academic relationship. I have come to the realization that as much as I need knowledge and direction, it is equally as important to me to give knowledge and direction. That’s what I realized when I stopped “blogging” or even writing –- that the things I knew and needed to be said weren’t being said, maybe I was afraid of being judged or criticized, but holding ideas inside and not being forthcoming hurts me more than someone that had a moment of self-righteousness. Everyone can think what I say or do is stupid –- it is their God-given right. Destroyers, deconstructionist, critics, killers, reviewers, purists, and hard-core fans –- people that think they all know better, but it might be the simple fact that what you’re doing does not fit in the scope of what they understand and know. What you are is beyond them. To branch out –- you’re a sell out. To say your peace –- you’re stupid, you’re wrong, what you’re doing is not the right inside my world. That’s all it is –- to do something that people disagree with takes courage, to say it takes will, and sometimes when they judge you it might be advise, but it might envy because within this life – they lacked the courage to live their own life by their own accordance, they lived life by what was expected of them. And in this life – I fail many, many, many times, but I will walk the path not paved, but the road I have set down for myself.
Get money, they said -- it will make you happy. I did but the happiness probably came from the booze and jet lag.
Get a house, they said -- it’s a great investment. But I find myself just getting things to cover up the blank walls and the empty space. New bills like gas line repairs. New chores like shoveling a driveway that has a grass divider. Cutting the grass every few days because it just won’t stop raining. Remembering that it’s trash day –- Lord, I miss apartment complex dumpsters.
Now they say, go to California -- it will make me happy, and forgive me when I question it. It might be because it doesn’t feel like my own idea.
But worst yet, I have these fears that I might be going out there for the wrong reasons –- for fear that it might be for Jennifer. Even though we’ve decided to be only friends, but then those sad clichés ring in your ears: What if we had a second chance? What if things were different? What if you were here or I was there? What if? I hate “what ifs,” they make you believe you’re a failure for not bending. They make you feel like you’re being punished. They make you feel like your own life isn’t good enough. And then slowly, without your own knowledge, you begin to choke yourself on these “what ifs” that have linked themselves together, making its way over the support beam, and crocheting a loop.
It’s difficult to be content –- let alone happy with yourself when you find yourself just pleasing other people. Then to abandon that notion and then ask yourself –- what makes you happy, even though your happiness may tread on the happiness of others? And simply, it is to be honest with yourself and not to sound cliché, special, or even worse –- a good person. What is it that I want? I’d like to be a writing teacher –- to give what my teachers gave me. To feed off of them, the way they would feed off of me: a symbiotic, academic relationship. I have come to the realization that as much as I need knowledge and direction, it is equally as important to me to give knowledge and direction. That’s what I realized when I stopped “blogging” or even writing –- that the things I knew and needed to be said weren’t being said, maybe I was afraid of being judged or criticized, but holding ideas inside and not being forthcoming hurts me more than someone that had a moment of self-righteousness. Everyone can think what I say or do is stupid –- it is their God-given right. Destroyers, deconstructionist, critics, killers, reviewers, purists, and hard-core fans –- people that think they all know better, but it might be the simple fact that what you’re doing does not fit in the scope of what they understand and know. What you are is beyond them. To branch out –- you’re a sell out. To say your peace –- you’re stupid, you’re wrong, what you’re doing is not the right inside my world. That’s all it is –- to do something that people disagree with takes courage, to say it takes will, and sometimes when they judge you it might be advise, but it might envy because within this life – they lacked the courage to live their own life by their own accordance, they lived life by what was expected of them. And in this life – I fail many, many, many times, but I will walk the path not paved, but the road I have set down for myself.
This entry was posted
on Tuesday, February 8 at 11:29 AM.
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3:33 PMYou're finally starting to understand what I said so long ago, but you still have a long way to go.
2:03 AM
Who wrote that above, it's not who you think it is.
2:10 PM
Umm. Hmm. Yeah, just to make it official I didn't write any of these comments, I've been in Natchez and Louisiana, but I'll point some fingers in the general direction of who I'd think be writing obscure stupid anonymous notes... Look west young man.
4:52 PM
what ifs suck. i read some of your stuff. i think i like it.
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