3.29 - Ghost of a Chance
Even though the school year is over and my business with CHS is done, at least for a time, I'm still contemplating in the aftermath of my senior year the events that led me to where I am now. I suppose, in some way, I'll always be casting a look over my shoulder at the past, wondering "what if" and "were it different", how would I have changed?
I think the essential bottom line of my departure from Fox Chapel was the same strain that influenced Kinsey Millhone to separate herself from humanity at large. If you're going to lose it, why love it? What's the point? Who can say whether or not it's worth it, but if all you get is pain, then it's better to leave it alone, let it in the past, and move on with your life. Kinsey is in a sort of emotional paralysis concerning her family, she still retains unresolved issues surrounding the death of her parent's at an early age and the cousin's who ignored her in the subsequent years because of a malicious matriarch. Women, go figure. But my point is that these people, her family, the ones she's supposed to be closest to, are the ones who have caused her the most grief in her life. She's been shot at, kidnapped, tortured, stalked, and brutally beaten in the course of her duties, even kills people when the time strikes, but it's her family that is the hardest to deal with. That doesn't make sense to me and gives me enough cause to keep my distance.
Don't get me wrong, I like my family. My mother's a good woman, my father's a flawed and generally failed human being, my siblings are developing and still haven't figured out who they're going to be. My cousins are getting married, my aunts and uncles and distant relatives are keeping squarely out of my life and I have a tendency to respond with the like. I hate to feel boxed in by the obligations of family, my obligations to myself are heavy enough.
Which brings us to the two common themes or though trains of late: The destructiveness of love, specifically women, and the meaning of life. I've watched in recent weeks the heartbreak and desperation of love come out in spades. Without dropping names, because most of these duets in discord are still fiddling on the roof, so to speak. But I've seen firsthand, and experienced firsthand as many know, the terrible pains suffered in the name of love, the pursuit of happiness with another person. Too much unhappiness, it's been a sobering few weeks and as I look out at the gray skies and wet streets, I think I'll keep my behind out of Cupid's sights for a while. Kaylin wrote recently that being single is great. She's right. There's a curious freedom, it's a situation where you get to make up all the rules. I like it well enough, mostly out of habit I'll grant, but the cost of affection is rising like gasoline prices and I just don't have any more to wager in the name of love.
The meaning of life, as I'll tell anyone, as I understand it anyway, is to like yourself and love someone because you can. That's what we're all seeking to do. That's why we reach and impel ourselves forward, to satisfy our own codes and make life bearable amidst so much wrong in the world.
Here's what I know about myself right know: I want to go home. Problem is, I don't know where home is anymore. It damn well sure isn't Carlisle, but I'm not entirely sure it's Fox Chapel or Pittsburgh anymore either. Those places have changed since I've been there and I'm reluctant to confirm my suspicion that I'll never have somewhere where I belong again. As it stands now, in my memory, all of my friends are still at DMS, still the way I remember them, still the way we were. This is only because I don't know any better and despite a few voices from the past piping up in recent months, won't. I don't want to see the world of my past shattered. That's probably why I'm so hesitant to go back. I did go back once, sort of. But that's still one of many stories that I haven't shared yet. And there's still a great deal of my life that has yet to be committed to text. I've gone into the Year of Hell, but there are other considerations, other influences, and other people who affected me at that time. Other than Regina and Evan, there were good people and things I did wrong that I still feel shame for to this day. The time hasn't softened the blow any. I have yet to talk about Kristian, Lori, or Mary, the girls I engaged in dalliances with when first coming to Carlisle in my Freshmen year. I have yet to explore the outer branches and memories of my family tree, the closest friends of my life, and a lot of the background that is important in understanding my life in Fox Chapel and why the move was unique for me and why it was so detrimental. More than most of the other people who have been moved around via the War College or the like. It's clear that there's much more to tell, but this forum is about done and I only have one more thought to arrest before I sign my name and submit my entry for the last time.
Respectfully Submitted,
Art
I think the essential bottom line of my departure from Fox Chapel was the same strain that influenced Kinsey Millhone to separate herself from humanity at large. If you're going to lose it, why love it? What's the point? Who can say whether or not it's worth it, but if all you get is pain, then it's better to leave it alone, let it in the past, and move on with your life. Kinsey is in a sort of emotional paralysis concerning her family, she still retains unresolved issues surrounding the death of her parent's at an early age and the cousin's who ignored her in the subsequent years because of a malicious matriarch. Women, go figure. But my point is that these people, her family, the ones she's supposed to be closest to, are the ones who have caused her the most grief in her life. She's been shot at, kidnapped, tortured, stalked, and brutally beaten in the course of her duties, even kills people when the time strikes, but it's her family that is the hardest to deal with. That doesn't make sense to me and gives me enough cause to keep my distance.
Don't get me wrong, I like my family. My mother's a good woman, my father's a flawed and generally failed human being, my siblings are developing and still haven't figured out who they're going to be. My cousins are getting married, my aunts and uncles and distant relatives are keeping squarely out of my life and I have a tendency to respond with the like. I hate to feel boxed in by the obligations of family, my obligations to myself are heavy enough.
Which brings us to the two common themes or though trains of late: The destructiveness of love, specifically women, and the meaning of life. I've watched in recent weeks the heartbreak and desperation of love come out in spades. Without dropping names, because most of these duets in discord are still fiddling on the roof, so to speak. But I've seen firsthand, and experienced firsthand as many know, the terrible pains suffered in the name of love, the pursuit of happiness with another person. Too much unhappiness, it's been a sobering few weeks and as I look out at the gray skies and wet streets, I think I'll keep my behind out of Cupid's sights for a while. Kaylin wrote recently that being single is great. She's right. There's a curious freedom, it's a situation where you get to make up all the rules. I like it well enough, mostly out of habit I'll grant, but the cost of affection is rising like gasoline prices and I just don't have any more to wager in the name of love.
The meaning of life, as I'll tell anyone, as I understand it anyway, is to like yourself and love someone because you can. That's what we're all seeking to do. That's why we reach and impel ourselves forward, to satisfy our own codes and make life bearable amidst so much wrong in the world.
Here's what I know about myself right know: I want to go home. Problem is, I don't know where home is anymore. It damn well sure isn't Carlisle, but I'm not entirely sure it's Fox Chapel or Pittsburgh anymore either. Those places have changed since I've been there and I'm reluctant to confirm my suspicion that I'll never have somewhere where I belong again. As it stands now, in my memory, all of my friends are still at DMS, still the way I remember them, still the way we were. This is only because I don't know any better and despite a few voices from the past piping up in recent months, won't. I don't want to see the world of my past shattered. That's probably why I'm so hesitant to go back. I did go back once, sort of. But that's still one of many stories that I haven't shared yet. And there's still a great deal of my life that has yet to be committed to text. I've gone into the Year of Hell, but there are other considerations, other influences, and other people who affected me at that time. Other than Regina and Evan, there were good people and things I did wrong that I still feel shame for to this day. The time hasn't softened the blow any. I have yet to talk about Kristian, Lori, or Mary, the girls I engaged in dalliances with when first coming to Carlisle in my Freshmen year. I have yet to explore the outer branches and memories of my family tree, the closest friends of my life, and a lot of the background that is important in understanding my life in Fox Chapel and why the move was unique for me and why it was so detrimental. More than most of the other people who have been moved around via the War College or the like. It's clear that there's much more to tell, but this forum is about done and I only have one more thought to arrest before I sign my name and submit my entry for the last time.
Respectfully Submitted,
Art