So, the professor for my Human Geography class had a moment last night during lecture where she stopped and stared for a moment at nothing, and then shook herself out of it and explained that she has "washing machine moments". She went on to elaborate, saying that sometimes, she stands at the washing machine and thinks about how lucky she is to be where and when she is, and the fact that she's intersecting with such an amazing time and place to be just blows her mind. I loved it.
I don't generally think about things like that, because I'm so fucking used to it. I take it all for granted, and every once in a rare while, I do think about how I take everything for granted, but I don't think about how amazing everything I have is. I don't think about my smart phone, I don't think about my refrigerator, I don't think about my washer and dryer. I don't even think about my bed. And last night, I did. I didn't feel guilty or bad for having the things and opportunities I have, because it's luck of the draw, and I can't help that. I did feel infinitely more grateful for everything, however. That birth lottery really worked out for me. I don't have much, but I have so much more than a great deal of the world. That's so fucking sad, but guilt for that won't change anything. Action will, and I'm waiting for the right time to be proactive about fostering change in the places where it matters (I just found an AMAZING opportunity in Cape Town that I am aching for the chance to do, but it's three grand to do it, so I have to save up for a little bit, and because it's a twelve week program, I'm thinking that after I get my BS, I'll take advantage of it. For now, I'm content with volunteering for hospice and Stand Up For Kids the three or four times a year I can make it. I recognize that helping in my own backyard is important, too, and I think easing the passing of the dying, and aiding homeless kids in whatever ways I can are the best things I can do).
There's a speech written by David Foster Wallace (I'm not a fan of his, just so you know) called This is Water, and as much as I dislike his writing, I find myself thinking about the condensed version of that commencement speech constantly. I have figured out a lot about myself in the last year and a half. There's a bit in that speech, if you don't listen to it or haven't heard it, where he talks about looking around and feeling irritated by everybody else, and how they look, and what they're doing. He speaks about it with the purpose of choosing to think about these people and their lives, and to recognize that they have secret lives that you don't know or understand, and instead of judging them and being angry with them, to practice empathy and not be angry, because who knows what their lives are like? There's a certain amount of wisdom in that, and that IS something I try and do. However, I've also realized that it's ok to not. It's ok to be angry with people, and feel frustrated with people, and all of those things that I do that make me a terrible person are just...me being human. It's ok to recognize how flat eyed and boring people look, because it helps me recognize how rich and vast my own brain is, and it helps me feel like this beautiful, colored creature walking through the painfully grey land of the dead. And I like it that way.
There's more than one way to live., and just because someone else describes a way to do it differently than you are doesn't make you wrong, it makes you different. Those differences are important, even when they're differences we think are morally reprehensible. It's all important. Even the stupid shit. Even walking through the painfully grey land of the dead. I love every single bit of it. If that's all I get from school outside of my degrees, it's all money and time well spent.
Fuck yes. Being alive is god damn amazing, even when it hurts.
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