You may say I\'m a dreamer...
(Matters of the Heart, 3400 views) - 1/20/11
(recorded 1/20/11 @ 9:25:56 PM)
There are days in which it seems as if I never got out of bed. Not because I didn't... but because what I did that day left utterly no imprint upon my life, much less the world. Is that important, really? I think it is. I think most of us want to leave something of ourselves, be somebody that others remember and maybe think highly of. Maybe.
I would have been just as well off staying in bed.
But then my logic kicks in and tells my overly-romanticized, emotional self to shut the hell up. How the hell else are the bills going to be paid? Not everything is about seizing the day and leaving your mark. Sometimes it's just about sucking it up and doing what has to be done, isn't it?
I'd love to be an idealist all the time. But only if I could live ideally. Isn't that just kick you in the crotch, spit on your neck fantastic?
When I was a teenager, I knew that becoming an adult had its price. I would need to get a job and work to support myself in order to eat and have a roof over my head. Working would take precedence over relaxing and doing "nothing" all day, as I was wont to do as a teenager. I would get married and we'd argue over money and what colors to paint the walls and sometimes we'd get pissed and scream at each other. I would stress over bills that we couldn't pay in full, wonder where our next meal would come from and pretend that I liked my shithole job.
But still, even as my teenaged self envisioned my future as one of these so-called "adults", it still glittered with desirability. I thought that I wouldn't struggle, those people were obviously less successful, less intelligent than I. Surely I would have smooth sailing.
As tends to happen, my carefully constructed and balanced ideas of adulthood and dreams of a perfect life couldn't withstand the weight of true responsibility. I feel as if sometimes I'm still experiencing some of those dreams smashing me over the head when I get too full of myself.
Now, this isn't to say that I would wish to forget some of my experiences. Just like all our teachers always said, "Each mistake is a learning experience!" And I'll be damned if they weren't right.
I suppose you could say I've done a lot of learning.
My wife and I are preparing to begin our family - finally. Something I've been looking forward to since I was a child myself. The dream of dreams, the pinnacle of adulthood...
I am undeniably excited about the prospect of seeing my beautiful wife carrying our child, and also about the idea of carrying our second child myself. Watching her belly grow with this gorgeous little life, taking care of her while she labors and being a witness to one of the greatest miracles of all time - these ideas have a firm grip in the small part left of my idealist's mind. I'm going to experience these rapturous pieces of human life and I cannot believe how incredibly lucky I am.
But before too long, the chains holding me down to earth begin to get too heavy to keep in the clouds. Yes, we will have a baby. Yes, I will love that child with all my heart. The dream though? The one where I imagine the two of us laying in bed as sunshine illuminates the room with warmth and love, cradling our child between us as our hearts explode with contentment? That dream... I fear it will be shattered by the realism that is life. The fact that I won't be able to get very much time off work to care for my wife and newborn kills me.
Where do you draw the line? Between idyllic perfection and the dark grey dregs of utter disappointment lives a wide berth of middleground.
I guess it all depends on how you see it. Then again, that's just the dreamer in me.
Previous musing: I love you.
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