A-hem, what were we talking about...?
Will you girls please please update me on what you have been up to? In detail? Working hours, leisure hours, thoughts, feelings, musings? Bitching, moaning, commiserating. I somehow feel like you are the few people who have any connection with the last stage of my youth, that which I am still furiously clinging on to, but gradually letting go of. The person you last saw [at the prom?!?] was only half of who I am now, for I am no longer the same. Those feelings which attacked me in mid December were so aptly described by Cherry in her blog. I understand. Not a girl, not a woman, but more girl than woman. Afraid to grow up, afraid to take on responsibility, afraid to admit to ourselves that the future is not what we imagined it to be.
Suddenly I feel that the theatre we did was so ephemeral. It was true at the time, it was certainly something we felt strongly about, but there was no guarantee that 7 months down the road, we'll still stand by that belief. My form of theatre was my expression of being sixteen, then seventeen, then eighteen. It contained
me in my enthusiastic, passionate idealism, cleverly hidden behind my mask of cynicism. My theatre was me asserting my beliefs, validating my need to rebel against conformity, and also leading me on to the next stage of growth. I know the me that was then, but it's not until tomorrow that I'll know the me
now. If I were still doing theatre today, I would want to explore the real working world out there - not the world I conjured in my adolescent mind, that of shiny black suits and posh offices as Cherry puts it, but the world I have seen since I've started my short journey into adulthood. Yes, indeed, it's no longer just a world of A levels, and degrees, and majors, and co-ops, and SATs. It's so much more than that - can I possibly discount my future security so as to cater to the whims of my misguided present?
posted by beautiful at 7:38 am
"I guarantee that we'll have tough times. I guarantee that at some point one or both of us will want to get out. But I also guarantee that if I don't ask you to be mine, I'll regret it for the rest of my life. Because I know in my heart -- you're the only one for me".
A favourite line from Runaway Bride. I couldn't stop the tears from falling as I saw Ike and Maggie finally tie the knot, and the realisation that followed after that was only too clear - I hope I get married. I
want to get married. Someday. If I could be lucky enough to find someone I love so much as to shortchange myself, I would be a blessed girl. The holiday season gone by has awakened in me an awareness of the people around me who are less fortunate. As I sit on board 14, going through the crowded streets of Orchard on the last night of the year, I see a number of old people pottering around on their own. Some are young as well. Alone. While thousands around them are dressed to the nines, walking hand in hand with their friends, loved ones, spouses, eager to usher in the new year, eager to see what new memories 2003 has in store for
them. Just as I am amazed at how lucky I am, to be constantly surrounded with dear ones, I am also more certain than ever that fear of loneliness is an intense, destructive emotion. I don't want to come home to an empty room when I'm fifty. I don't want to have no one to wish happy new year to when January rolls around. I don't want to eat turkey ham and applesauce on my own, while carols play on repeat mode next door. I don't want to wake up alone. I'm not saying I want a lifelong companion right at this moment. But I know I will probably need one in the future. That's the difference.
posted by beautiful at 8:48 am
