For some reason, I was screaming when I jumped on the merry-go-round this morning and clung for dear life to the icy railing. Neither one of us balanced well, partially due to the previous night's activities but mostly because we were giggling so hard. I wanted a picture of that.
I'm so afraid of being old.
About a kilometer down the trail, when we passed the tree she tagged last summer, I told her to be quiet and listen to all the Canadian geese rustle in the leaves about us. At that point, I was really beginning to regret that I didn't have my 35 mm. I wanted images of her running through them, with the grey sky and rows of dead trees behind us.
I'm so afraid of being boring.
A few hours later, sitting with two newly engaged women and sipping lattes, we stared blankly at each other from our respective sides of the cafe table. I was overwhelmed by the stacks of bridal magazines in their laps and their bubble of wedding talk. She looked the way I felt: terrified.
I'm so afraid of settling.
To escape the world neither of us could comprehend, we opted for a matinee and ended up seeing the most horrific fairytale in theatres these days. Instead of walking out, though, we were glued to the screen in absolute bewilderment that the concept of 'happily ever after' actually sells. Such lies are sweeter and thicker than the gooey holiday candy she snuck into the movie, and when I gagged, it's because I know I'm guilty of tasting it.
I'm so afraid of going there.
I then advised her to break up with him, never get married and be single with me forever. I think it's the only way, really.
Later, a friend and I were rummaging through the $5 DVD bins at our local supermarche when he asked my professional opinion on the love-at-first-sight bit. He wants to know that he isn't crazy for thinking that when he meets his matrimonial destiny, her hair will be blowing in the wind and time will stand still as they lock eyes for the first time and just "know." I laughed at him for being so old and still holding to that ideal which I wish I weren't too cynical to embrace. I'm an adult and know better than all that fairytale garbage.
But, honestly, I'm so afraid of being right.
Maybe my biggest fear is not of being disappointed in this hyperbolized concept of love or allowing someone second-rate to hold my hand and suck the life from me; maybe my fear isn't so much the failure, but the initial fear-of-failure which will keep me from giving anyone a chance in the first place. I don't like the idea of my own voice reverberating in an empty room without another, warmer voice to interrupt. As many times as I've packed a backpack and set off on an adventure, hoping to escape the guy who isn't adventurous enough to go camping with me, I still have trouble navigating at times. I'm bothered by all the beautiful things I've seen and memories I've built on my own. Rather than enhancing my story-telling abilities, I think the solitude has actually made me less likely to share. But what's worse than being alone while laughing out loud is having someone beside me who doesn't understand my sense of humor.
"So, what is it about him," I asked. "Why him?" And she gave me the same non-specific, completely unoriginal answer I hear from everyone else. I have to wonder if that's as good as it gets and if Ryan was right to say that something slightly insufficient is good enough.
Apparently, no one has the answers these days.
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