Tuesday, February 2, 2010

How Do You Spell My Life?

I hate the “What If” game. I find myself doing this more often than I should. Reminiscing, scrutinizing, deconstructing and re-assembling the events of my life and the paths I have chosen. It’s not an easy task to do. I still don’t think I have accomplished anything from it. Whenever a major event happens or a big change or great loss occurs, I look back at the course of things and try to pinpoint not only the actions that led me here but also the reason why.
Have you ever been typing or writing a sentence and you come across a word that just doesn’t look right. You think you have misspelled it but you check the dictionary and it is correct. Even with checking it, you still aren’t satisfied with the spelling. You stare at it. Something’s not right. It begins to look foreign to you, like you don’t recognize it. Why is it spelled that way? That doesn’t look right. Has it always been this unusual?

That’s me and my life. Except I keep staring. I stare until the word itself divides into individual letters. But it doesn’t stop there. The letters become markings on a page. They seem random and pointless. It always gets to that point where nothing makes sense and what I thought I knew and was comfortable with is gibberish.

Maybe I lost you in all of that. I hope not. I think the point I am trying to make is that all of that hard scutinization and decoding is for not. It doesn’t improve comprehension and it doesn’t leave you satisfied. When you deconstruct your reality to the point of nonsense, it never helps. I know it doesn’t help me.

So the best thing to do is to pull back. Pull back until those markings become letters and then words. And once those words lose their funny look, they make sense again. They look correct. It is the familiar again. And you continue on with your sentence.

Because that sentence is part of a larger paragraph. Part of a larger page. And ultimately, it is part of a longer story that we have little control of. It’s a story written by a better “editor”, a better “storyteller”. We don’t know where we will end up. We only control the words on the page but not the full story.

So I will just have to keep writing. Keep living. Keep pushing forward.

I can’t promise I won’t stop to stare again.

But, I will try not to waste time deconstructing me.