Carousels

Isn't it funny how much we let little things bother us?  Oftentimes, we become so caught up in problems that really don't matter.  We worry, and we fret, and, then, eventually, everything works itself out in the end.  Even when things don't go our way, we pick up the pieces, and we move on.

Before I truly begin this post, allow me to divulge a brief anecdote about life when I was five.  I remember waking up early one morning before anyone else was out of bed.  I crept downstairs, undoubtedly clutching my tiger shark stuffed animal (who needs teddy bears, really?) and appreciating the rare tranquility of the household at 7:00 AM.  Rather enjoying my newfound solitude, I pulled a bowl out of the cupboard (a REAL bowl, mind you...not some plastic kiddy bowl) and poured myself some Fruit Loops.  Carefully, I added a bit of milk to the bowl and grabbed a spoon from the silverware drawer.  I imagine I was quite pleased with myself at that point...but can you feel the impending disaster, ladies and gentlemen?  Yes, that's right.  As I lifted the bowl from the countertop, I felt it slide away from my fingertips (note: I really don't know how this happened...  I have freakishly bad luck with these types of things.  Just ask me how I broke my hand...except...don't...because it's an embarrassing story.).  Anyway, a veritable explosion of milk, glass, and Fruit Loops shook the entire Hart household that morning...  And with the shattering of that bowl came the shattering of my dreams.  It was the end of the world.  It really was.  I stood there, amazed that the residual splatter of the skim milk had not only soaked me from head to toe, but had also managed to coat the entire back wall of our kitchen.  And, if that wasn't bad enough, I had broken a BOWL.  Back in those days, you didn't break a bowl and live to tell the tale.  In fact, people were killed for much less.  So, tears brimming in my eyes, I began to blot up the soggy mess with some paper towels, awaiting my inevitable doom.  Sure enough, Mom entered the kitchen a few minutes later, and I knew my moment had come.  At the very least, I would be flogged with the wooden spoon (did...your parents ever hit you with a wooden spoon...?  Mine did...and it hurt.  A lot.).  But, then, a funny thing happened.  Mom knelt down beside me and started helping me clean up the mess.  Was this some sort of ploy to catch me off guard...?  Did she have the wooden spoon hidden behind her back?!  Nope.  Turns out breaking a bowl (and spilling a little milk and cereal) wasn't punishable by death after all.

So, I assume by now that you understand my point.  No?  Well, perhaps that's because I've made it wildly unclear.  Really, it's just what I stated in the opening paragraph.  Far too often, I worry about the most trivial things.  Granted, they seem important at the time--so important that I lose my focus on other much more important things.  I just really need to let go of so many problems that have been stressing me out.

More and more, I'm finding that things have a tendency to work themselves out, anyway.  Even when something blows up in my face, I usually realize later that it wasn't that bad in the end.  Even when I'm certain that nothing could be worse, I tend to look back later and wonder why I was so bothered in the first place.  Most of the time, once I finally stop worrying and just forget about my problems, they come to a resolution (note: this does not work well with exams).  It's kind of a strange cycle, really.

So, I've decided that I'm going to stop stressing out over things that I can't control, and I'm just going to be happy.  It bewilders me that it has taken me so long to come to that conclusion....because, really, what else can I do?

So, there you have it.  Today's lesson: don't cry over spilled milk...or...something similarly cliche.  Hey, whatever works, right?

Thanks for reading.

If you ever feel like something's missing
Things you'll never understand
Little white shadows
Sparkle and glisten
Part of a system, a plan.

Smoke Signals

Do you ever get that hollow, sinking feeling?  You know, the feeling that presents itself when you know you're making a huge mistake or going down the wrong path.  You can see all the red flags, you can hear all the alarms, but you just can't seem to resist pressing onward.

It's like a scene from a horror film.  The naive (and rather mindless) character is evading the bloodthirsty serial killer, only to take a reckless turn down a dark alley.  Now, the killer is no where in sight, and our hero(ine) has every opportunity to go back to the well-lit, crowded street behind him or her...  You know he or she must be thinking (if...these characters are capable of such thoughts), Okay...dumb move.  Dimly lit, unpopulated areas of the seedy underworld are NOT good safe havens.  I should head back to civilization...  But they never do.  They scurry down the alley, undoubtedly making all sorts of commotion as they stumble through the darkness.  And then...surprise!  Mr. Chainsaw pops out of a nearby dumpster (how he got there, we will never know), and...  Well, let's just say that chainsaw vs. flesh is not a very fair match-up.  We'll leave it at that.

Okay, now that we've gotten our overblown illustration out of the way, I suppose I can continue my original line of thought.

I make lots of bad decisions--maybe not even decisions really, but a lack thereof.  I can see myself heading down the same foolish path over and over again, and I rarely do anything to prevent it.  It's not that I don't know that I'm doing it, either.  I repeatedly tell myself, Don't do this, Andrew.  This is dumb.  You can see where this is headed, and you know you're going to hate yourself for it later.  But, very much like our ill-fated movie star, I turn away from all things rational, and I wander down that dark alley, fully aware of the agonizing death that awaits me.

So, what's the problem?  Why do I do that to myself time and time again?  For the most part, I think it comes down to apathy.  I know where I'm headed, and I realize that it's going to suck, but I just don't care enough to prevent it.  I allow myself to be hurt because it's easier that way--at least temporarily.

And what of the consequences?  Eh, they're still a few days away...

Now, as is often the case in these blog entries of mine, I've arrived at the point where I've confronted the problem and am in dire need of a solution.  The sad part today is that the solution is simple: care.  Recognize the warning signs and take action.  Save yourself for once.

Everything looks so clear as I'm writing this, and you're probably wondering how this is even a problem.  Essentially, I've told myself, Don't be stupid, Andrew.  That's all.  Unfortunately, I've noticed all too often that, once you've already set foot in the alley, it's easy not to look back.

And I'm not so afraid,
lost at sea,
as I should be...

L'Attente

Dans mes rêves agités,
Je vois cette ville : Colline Silencieuse.
Tu as promis que tu m’y prendrais encore un jour.
Mais tu n’as jamais fait.
Tiens, je suis là, tout seul, maintenant
--dans notre place spéciale—
Et je t’attends.

Nothing Better

Today has been an awful day.  Let's see.  In my free time, I've been exploring the wonders of Gary B. Ferngren's piece of literary genius, Science and Religion--a quality read if you're hoping to delve into the complexities of the Laplacian nebular theory of the solar system or the innumerable cosmologies that were discussed by various 16th-century philosophers.  Of course, for a large majority of the time, I've also been struggling to remain conscious, often plunging face-first into my table at the SAC (if I have a bruise on my forehead tomorrow, that's why), occasionally blurting out incoherent strings of words to those unfortunate enough to be around me.  Right now, I'm shaking from the lingering effects of a Starbucks DoubleShot, knowing full well that when I crash from this caffeine high, I'm going to crash hard.

So, like I said, today has been an awful day.  But when I think about it--when I really think about it--I realize that I don't feel awful at all.

It's hard to describe.  I'm so quick to dwell on the negative, and I worry about things all the time.  I worry about my problems.  I worry about my friends' problems.  I worry about things that aren't even problems yet.  Whenever I have an idle moment, I think about problems that should be fixed--problems that I tend to not even express--because some part of me just can't accept that things might actually going well.  I excavate some deep source of dread from the back of my mind, and I let it consume me.

So...why, then, did I just say that I don't feel awful?  It's not very complicated, actually.  Despite everything I'm thinking--despite every problem that I feel bearing down on me--I know that it's all going to be okay.  I know that everything is going to work out.  And, at the end of the day, I know that I'm truly blessed.  I'm blessed in so many ways that it's overwhelming to me--blessed with family, blessed with the most amazing friends.  When I really sit down and think about it, how could I not be happy?  Even as I write this (and as my Science and Religion textbook leers at me from just a few feet away), it's hard not to smile.  It sounds corny and horribly cliche, but...life is good.

So...careless optimism again?  Maybe.  But it gets me through the day.  

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.
Leave to thy God to order and provide;
In every change, He faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.