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Rainbow toe socks
Jan. 22nd, 2007 08:21 amOkay, so I was reading Lisa Parrish's blog over on OurChart yesterday, and she took a picture of herself wearing these fantastic cashmere socks in purple, pink and blue. (By the way, Lisa Parrish has officially stolen my heart...and she wears hot glasses). Anyway, after seeing these glorious socks I was inspired to rummage around in the back of my closet for the fabulous rainbow toe socks I haven't worn since high school. After releasing squeals of glee at finally locating them under some old yearbooks, I donned them posthaste and spent the next few hours glancing periodically at my feet, laughing every single time I did so. All in all, it was a rather joyous, liberating experience, aside from my one complaint that toe socks as a rule aren't exactly comfortable.
In the midst of my bordering-on-insane happiness over such a small, seemingly meaningless thing, I couldn't help but realize that it had been far too long since I'd really taken the time to enjoy something simple. It seems that anymore, ever since I've entered what they call the "adult world" (and to which I still feel like an outsider looking in) my happiness has been measured largely in terms of the opportunities a particular action will end up presenting, rather than in something purely for the sake of itself.
I've been trying for years not to take my life so damn seriously. I envy those who see every day as nothing more than a big joke, and I'd love to be able to see the funny in things more often than the hardship and possible ramifications of every little thing. I've become someone I despise, to a large extent. When I was a kid, dreaming of being a grown-up, this incessant worry and general grumpiness definitely weren't part of the dream. Granted, I'm sure a lot of my current disposition has a lot to do with the way I grew up and ended up leaving the house I was raised in, but even that affords small comfort. I'd always seen myself as strong enough to break the cycle of the environment I was used to, to create my own happiness. I feel that for the most part I've failed in the attempt, and what saddens me the most is that I didn't even realize this until very, very recently.
My encounter with my silly and gloriously gay rainbow toe socks was something of an epiphany for me, one that began last Friday morning on Interstate 74 somewhere between Peoria and the Quad-Cities. I was settled into the passenger seat, listening to my nifty little mp3 player, and the ultimate driving song came on shuffle. That's right, The Indigo Girls' Closer to Fine. Call me unoriginal, I don't care. That song is awesome and fucking poetic if you really let yourself hear it. As I listened to the lyrics, I started to think about my life, really think about it for the first time, and what I found hiding in the recesses of my mind scared even me.
I didn't do it consciously by any means, but ever since the fallout and eventual eviction from my parents' house, I've been expecting the world to repay me somehow. Seeing that in print makes me wince, since I thought I was a better person than that, but it's true. I played the martyr for years, victimizing myself in much the same way Jenny's fond of doing on The L Word. I haven't taken control of anything, waiting instead for something "worthy" to come along and expecting others to give me the support I was sorely lacking in my childhood home.
It's bullshit, folks. Complete and utter bullshit, and as the farm fields flew by me at 85mph all I could think was that it's time to go. It's time to do something. The world doesn't owe me a thing, and the only reason I'm depressed and lonely all the time is because I choose to live that way. I don't want to anymore. I don't want to wake up every day still waiting for my life to begin. I don't want my life to pass me by and never even realize it's slipped away without me even realizing it, constantly fretting and grumbling about how bad it is when I have all the power in the world to change it.
I know it won't be an overnight recovery, but it's time to start living. I've been given a reasonably sound mind and an ability, however slight, to manipulate and shape words into comprehensible and sometimes even eloquent thoughts, and I want to use these gifts to express myself in whatever way I can. I want music to fill me up again, totally and completely, like it did when I was younger. I want to go buy a cheap acoustic guitar and a cheap keyboard and just play, without giving a damn if it sounds good. I want poetry to build itself in my head overnight, only to beg for paper in the morning. I want to see the humor in everything, and point it out to others when they can't see it for themselves. I want to enjoy myself, not just sometimes, but in everything I do. I want to have a community, people to relate to...and for the first time in my life, I think I can have all those things.
So thank you, Lisa Parrish, and thank your cashmere socks.
In the midst of my bordering-on-insane happiness over such a small, seemingly meaningless thing, I couldn't help but realize that it had been far too long since I'd really taken the time to enjoy something simple. It seems that anymore, ever since I've entered what they call the "adult world" (and to which I still feel like an outsider looking in) my happiness has been measured largely in terms of the opportunities a particular action will end up presenting, rather than in something purely for the sake of itself.
I've been trying for years not to take my life so damn seriously. I envy those who see every day as nothing more than a big joke, and I'd love to be able to see the funny in things more often than the hardship and possible ramifications of every little thing. I've become someone I despise, to a large extent. When I was a kid, dreaming of being a grown-up, this incessant worry and general grumpiness definitely weren't part of the dream. Granted, I'm sure a lot of my current disposition has a lot to do with the way I grew up and ended up leaving the house I was raised in, but even that affords small comfort. I'd always seen myself as strong enough to break the cycle of the environment I was used to, to create my own happiness. I feel that for the most part I've failed in the attempt, and what saddens me the most is that I didn't even realize this until very, very recently.
My encounter with my silly and gloriously gay rainbow toe socks was something of an epiphany for me, one that began last Friday morning on Interstate 74 somewhere between Peoria and the Quad-Cities. I was settled into the passenger seat, listening to my nifty little mp3 player, and the ultimate driving song came on shuffle. That's right, The Indigo Girls' Closer to Fine. Call me unoriginal, I don't care. That song is awesome and fucking poetic if you really let yourself hear it. As I listened to the lyrics, I started to think about my life, really think about it for the first time, and what I found hiding in the recesses of my mind scared even me.
I didn't do it consciously by any means, but ever since the fallout and eventual eviction from my parents' house, I've been expecting the world to repay me somehow. Seeing that in print makes me wince, since I thought I was a better person than that, but it's true. I played the martyr for years, victimizing myself in much the same way Jenny's fond of doing on The L Word. I haven't taken control of anything, waiting instead for something "worthy" to come along and expecting others to give me the support I was sorely lacking in my childhood home.
It's bullshit, folks. Complete and utter bullshit, and as the farm fields flew by me at 85mph all I could think was that it's time to go. It's time to do something. The world doesn't owe me a thing, and the only reason I'm depressed and lonely all the time is because I choose to live that way. I don't want to anymore. I don't want to wake up every day still waiting for my life to begin. I don't want my life to pass me by and never even realize it's slipped away without me even realizing it, constantly fretting and grumbling about how bad it is when I have all the power in the world to change it.
I know it won't be an overnight recovery, but it's time to start living. I've been given a reasonably sound mind and an ability, however slight, to manipulate and shape words into comprehensible and sometimes even eloquent thoughts, and I want to use these gifts to express myself in whatever way I can. I want music to fill me up again, totally and completely, like it did when I was younger. I want to go buy a cheap acoustic guitar and a cheap keyboard and just play, without giving a damn if it sounds good. I want poetry to build itself in my head overnight, only to beg for paper in the morning. I want to see the humor in everything, and point it out to others when they can't see it for themselves. I want to enjoy myself, not just sometimes, but in everything I do. I want to have a community, people to relate to...and for the first time in my life, I think I can have all those things.
So thank you, Lisa Parrish, and thank your cashmere socks.