09 February 2008

This Ain't Mayberry

Why is it that romance novels, the cheesy Harlequin kind that I adore for so many brain-light reasons, make me think about who and what I am?

I was reading one of them, that I have to take back to the library later in the afternoon, and I started to analyze myself. Which is not unusual, by the way. The only rule I truly have about myself is this: don't lie or sugarcoat about myself. I don't. I've seen that done all around me, because of the people around me, and it doesn't end pretty. That's probably why I'm harsher on myself than anyone I've ever known has been or could be.

Anyway, I'm babbling. So, I got to thinking about it and I realized that I'm another paradox, or whatever you call a person. Ya see, I'm a optimistic realist. Yeah, think about that for a minute. Here's the breakdown, though: I know I can't singlehandedly change the world. It's just not possible and never will be. Because the world is made up of far too many fractions, societies, geographical regions. You name it and it'll end up as a problem. But I can change the world around me. So I'm pretty damn cynical about those in charge of changing the world, mostly because they're only human like the rest of us, so they're looking out for them because no one else will. It is the law of the land. Forget that other crap. It's look out for your own ass, or no one else will. Hey, I had to learn something growing up, didn't I?

But the thing is, I think I can change and make my world better. It might take a couple decades, or most of my life, but it is possible. My world, the one that is cool enough to center around me, is changeable. That's the optimistic part. My life may royally suck 99% of the time, but that one percent exists and I can use it change some of the other, make it suck a little less. That's another thing I learned growing up.

I'm telling you, I was the wisest ten-year-old anyone had ever seen. Which is scary when you consider it. I didn't have much of a childhood. I had moments, but it wasn't exactly the Cleavers. Actually, scratch that. Those people scared me. It was more like Roseanne meets Jeff Foxworthy meets Grace Under Pressure meets Married with Children. Tell me that's not a weird group. So, I'm saying that I started out with the wisdom I've seen 40 something year olds lack because it becomes ingrained to absorb and internalize common occurrences, and the only people that survive learn from all experiences. Which explains my crazy ass weirdness. Also why I forget that I'm 26 and regress to somewhere around 16 at times. Sometimes I wish I could take back some of those experiences that I skipped over because I had to be the little adult that could.

I just thought it was funny to realize I'm the only optimistic realist I know. The world, the all encompassing one, is a grey block of junk, but I can at least put a little color and light into mine. And for me, it works out well.



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