October 4, 2003
On to Greater Things
All of us learn to write in the second grade. Most of us go on to greater things. --Bobby Knight
For one of my college essays my mentor suggested that I find a strong quotation to put at the top of my paper. I went to quotationspage.com and ended up finding something quite useful. As I am bent to be obsessed with all things literary, I was sort of fascinated by all of the quotations. So for the next couple of entries I think I am going to stick an interesting quotation at the beginning, maybe comment on it, maybe not. I do not much care about who says the quotation, though it can definitely add something to the power of the quotation.
I thought this one was good to start off with because I am in sore need of having my ego knocked down a few pegs.
After a semi-successful shopping trip (amazingly cute purse, two button up sweaters, and a long-sleeved shirt) I went to the local grocery store, where I sort of knew the guy at the register and definitely knew the guy bagging groceries. The guy bagging was in my kindergarten class, among other classes. I distinctly remember him bringing in his father's shoe for our clown unit and finding the shoe to be quite massive.
Anyway, I was with my mom and after we left she asked me if I had known either of the guys. I said, why yes, I knew both of them. She asked if I said hi, and I told her I did not. She called me stuck-up.
The way I see it, this cannot be good.
So let's analyze this to bits, shall we?
Sometimes it is a matter of me being a bitch that I do not say hi to people but usually I do not say hi to people unless I am fairly certain they are going to say hello back. The more I think about it the less it makes sense, someone not saying hello back really does not make or break my day. It barely makes or breaks my moment, I am only temporarily peeved or embarassed until I talk to someone else and completely forget about it. A couple of times I have dwelled on the moment if the object of greeting is also the current object of my affection, but in most cases it is just someone who is an aquaintance, maybe a friend.
The odd thing is that I have very little problem saying hi or smiling at strangers on the street. Or maybe it's not odd. I always thought the key to my theatric success during the summer is I knew that I would never have to see my audience again, so I could just do my best and maybe even fail and there would not be any real consequences. Even with an audience I know the 'real consequences' are mostly built up to be more than they are.
I want to quickly interrupt my rambling with a lovely quotation my friend Andrew supplied me with by Eliot Smith:
"You had plans, for the both of us, that involved a trip out of town,
to a place I've seen, in a magazine, in a chair, left lying around."
But to delve deeper into my quotation before, it almost ties into the idea of everything one needs to know in life one learns in kindergarten. Which actually I do not agree with at all because I think it is very anti-intellectual. Even the truth that is there to it, I think it is not until you learn more about life, people, history, and everything else that you understand why those kindergarten skills are so important. Plus it seems like the real key to happiness is coloring outside the lines.
Something I just realized that I am enjoying without realizing how unusual and fantastic it is: I now have boy friends (oh notice the space, the oh-so-important space) who will randomly start off conversation with me with poetry. Eventually I am sure all of this will get old and maybe it can be argued that they are using aesthetic speech to breach from real depth or prevent it, but for now I like the roses of their poetry.
And I think I may be the kind of girl that would prefer to speak philosophy and poetry if only for a few minutes then go to dinner in formal dress with ten of my closest acquiantances.
But also with the quotation from before, writing could be replaced with coloring or reading or anything else that is not a traditional occupation. I think my History book said Petrarch was the first writer to really make it into a calling, so I figuratively kiss his toes for that.
I like the quotation in the sense that it can keep me humble. Other things may not be better, but it is important for me to remember that writing is not the only thing. A strong society is the culmination of many talents coming together for the benefit of everyone. In my Utopia everyone would be doing what they love, though they would struggle with it from time to time so they could truly appreciate how wonderful it is. I am not sure if I trust any of us to appreciate anything otherwise.
There are some people in my school that I am fairly confident have never gone to a formal dance and want to. As un-high school as I feel sometimes I think that I might be one of those people if I had never been to a formal dance. It is too bad that some of those people may never go to that kind of dance and it will be one of those regrets hanging over their heads come the tenth high school reunion or so. Then despite them being the beautiful spirits that they are they will spend two months or so before the reunion trying to manipulate themselves into something they think everyone else wants to see, to try to send shots of a similar kind of regret to everyone who missed just how truly fantastic they were. And the whole time that effort will be wasted on people who do not deserve even to know what they missed out on, because the regret gives the impression that should they do it all over again they would change their actions and that could very well not be the case at all.
So if there is ever a theme to my entries, tonight's theme is that we all need to move beyond whatever we love or hate about our past, especially if it is interfering with our future. I actually did fall in love with writing in second grade, oddly enough, but I wonder if I am limiting myself and my experience in my devotion. I am not sure if a pen can be pried from my fingers but come my mid-life crisis I may lay it down for a few months and see how the space between my joints rocks my world.
Right now I think it would be an earthquake that would take no prisoners.
Tonight, though, I enter my night with not only a journal in my gorgeous new purse but assuredly over twelve pens and pencils in the front pocket. I found my security blanket in second grade: it crinkles and falls apart in the rain, but its mortality makes it more acceptable to the masses.
Love,
Mandy