A Life Worth Living

spaceOK, I lied.  I do have something to say.  Here we go.

My life has been defined by what I’m not and what I don’t like.  When I was a kid, I didn’t like playing with dolls.  I didn’t want to wear skirts or dresses.  I didn’t dream about my wedding day, and I didn’t much care for anything outside of reading and some sports.  As a kid, I wasn’t popular at all.  I was smart, but I didn’t fit in.  I didn’t look like other people, and I certainly didn’t think like them.  I would rather climb trees than play jump rope.  I would rather play with the boys than with the girls.  

Ok.  Skipping to religion.  I didn’t believe in capital-G God, no matter how much I tried.  I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that there was some guy up in the sky and that He actually gave a shit about, well, anything.  In fact, I forgot to add in my week-long series that my current conclusion about god is that if he/she/it exists, he/she/it is very laissez-faire about matters on earth.  I imagine he (let’s just say he for now) is off somewhere partying his ass off and not paying attention to all the shit happening on earth.

OK.  I didn’t want to learn how to drive, and I didn’t want to go to college.  During my childhood, my mom insisted that I take all sorts of lessons.  I learned dancing (tap, ballet, jazz), the piano, the cello, and I played softball in the summers.  I also learned tennis, ping-pong, and volleyball.  However, I quit when I reached the fork in the road, and I had to decide whether to go forward or to dawdle.

For example.  I started dancing at age two.  I took lessons until I was fourteen.  At that time, we started toe.  I realized that I would have to put twice as much work into my dancing to become competent.  I didn’t want to put in the effort, so I quit.  It was the same with the cello.  I started at age eight, and I made it to the second highest orchestra in GTCYS (Greater Twin Cities Youth Symphony) in my junior year in high school.  In order to make it to the highest orchestra, I would have had to put in significantly more effort, sweat, and tears.  I didn’t want to do that, so I quit.  

I was slated to move to CA for college.  I chickened out and stayed in MN.  I took the first job out of college that I was offered so I didn’t have to go to any more interviews.  I could go on and on, but I think you get the picture.  

The older I get, the more I realize that I have to decide what it is I want to do with the rest of my life, and not just what I don’t want to do.  If my life is going to mean anything, I have to give it meaning.  I can’t just dick around and moan about how much I hate life.  Well, I could, but I’ve already wasted twenty fucking years of my life doing that.

I have tried hard to wrap myself in marshmellow clouds so I won’t get hurt.  Yeah, hiding away from the world might stop me from getting hurt, but it also stops me from living.  I have lost so much of my life being cryogenetically frozen in place.  I mourn the years I let slip away from me because of my fear, my pain, and my depression.  

I know what I want from life at this point.  I want to act.  I want to be able to stand on my own two feet.  I want my cats to live forever (yes, I know that’s a fantasy).  I want to have hot, passionate, crazy sex.  I want to be in lust.  I want to think that I could be in a relationship some day.  I want to get my shit published.  I want to learn the whole damn form in taiji.  I want to have mad, passionate sex with Alan Rickman, but I will settle for having a drink with him.

The thing is, I know intellectually, that many of these things are attainable.  I just have to get my heart to feel it as well.

8 Responses to A Life Worth Living

  1. Minna, you will learn the whole Taiji form. If you can stand sticking around, you’ll learn everything I can teach you. My only hope is that you keep having fun, keep being challenged. My only expectation is that as long as you do continue, your Taiji will be improving, even if it doesn’t feel that way. Your form is already miles better than when you began.

  2. Choolie–I consider learning the Taiji form one of my attainable goals. Thanks for guiding me on that particular journey. Oddly enough, it’s the least strenuous (which indicates how difficult the rest of my life is gonna be).

  3. Well, if you need me to make it more interesting anytime, just let me know. I have a feeling I may be allowed to teach you Pa Kua someday, too.