Friday, May 21, 2010

Wait....what am I waiting for, exactly?

I spend a great deal of my time these days lamenting.

It's pathetic because I'm only twenty, I'm healthy, relatively strong (albeit totally scrawny, but, you know, no parasites that I know of) and have a long, lush existence to look forward to.

And yet I'm like a bitter old woman, taking out my disappointment with my diminished youth on everyone else.
I'm like the witchy motor-chair lady on Waking Ned Devine.
I sigh about my high school exploits like they were my golden years.
I'll quickly note that the purse one just said one liked was, in fact,  purchased in EGYPT.
I'll explain to anyone who will listen how cool I am.  [and I can prove it too! I can I can I can!]
I wake up in the morning actually angry that I'm not waking up to the call to prayer with Jerusalem waiting outside my window.
I find my self jealous of anyone and everyone who is talented, motivated, content, or just, I hate to        
[my foot]                                                                                     admit it, happy
yep. children. celebrities. the UPS guy. my grandmother. my dog. you name it.
I hate that.
 
I know that I have:
talent
energy
promise 
motivation
friends
passion

And yet, all I can seem to think about is the past. It's all wadded up into a great big confused ball of ticket stubs and playbills and logged away in my locked-up filing cabinet labeled "romanticized."  

It takes a lot of prying and twisting and head-bashing to remind myself that not everything was perfectly peachy back then either.
I've always known my wander-lusting, sensitive disposition was a bit of a liability, but it's starting to feel like I just can't be happy if I'm not moving across the world every few months.
or winning things.
or proving how very interesting I am.
or living in Hawaii.
or committing to a kajillion high-profile things every day.
or dazzling people on stage.
or wearing a crown and sash.
or...whatever.

Last night I went to the phenomenal Celtic Woman concert with my mama and family friend, Marilyn. It was, very literally, breathtaking.
But I had to keep reminding myself how much I was enjoying it  because I was sitting there, all hunched up, resenting the sweet old lady next to me singing along to "Danny Boy" with gusto because she was, of course, so happy.
And I absolutely [I'm not proud of this] hated those incredibly talented singers and musicians onstage. They were, after all, enjoying themselves. And, you know, doing what they love.
How dare they do that in front of me!!! The audacity.

No, but really. I'm desperately tired of being miserable, and of allowing myself to be so.  Day after day. So what if I'm in Spokane? It's pretty.
So what if I don't get a lot of social time [and by some, I mean none]? I finally get to hang out with my family. I'm not here often.
So what if I'm not famous? Most people aren't.
So what if I'm not actually better than everyone else at everything?    ....well, you get the point.

Or I should, anyway.
Here's to being happy! It's time to live this life of mine, methinks.

love and stuff,
Banana 

p.s. I'm going to the Spokane Symphony tonight. Goal: no frowns and a smile exchange with the patron next to me. 
p.p.s any inspirational quotes/ pics/ smacks upside the head= totally appreciated.

8 comments:

alyssa said...

separated at birth, you and i.

Jenalee said...

I can't read the teeny tiny print. I thought it said you wanted SNACKS upside the head.

Anna Banana said...

oopsies!
I forget when I work on a big screen that some things are teeny tiny on baby laptops.
I fix it!

Sister Lauren Call said...

we will have to help each other be happy and grateful in the fall. i am fairly certain i will be coming back with major homesickness that will present itself in the form of post-study abroad depression. and if i love it here this much already i have a feeling it is going to be very debilitating.

Sadie said...

I also went through a miserable post-study abroad summer once where I wanted to be anywhere but home. Pioneers helped me endure. Not even kidding. That song "Come, Come Ye Saints" is a miracle worker. Let me know if you want the whole story, y'know, if you need moral support.

brielle? said...

thank you for this. i know that's a weird thing to say, and i know i only sort of got to know you at byu.

but in my mind, you WERE always so glamorous and jet-set and... COOL.

it's kind of like finding out jennifer aniston has days where she dreads work. i don't know.

i guess what i'm saying is that i empathize. and i know exactly what you're talking about. and that makes me cool by association.

okay, all but the last part is true.

collette charles said...

this completely embodies how i have felt the past year. thank you anna :) somehow knowing im not the only whiner makes it better. and i mean that in the most loving way.

Weston Hawkins said...

be careful when using any cliffside telephone booths to alert the authorities...

Carry

I want to carry you
and for you to carry me
the way voices are said to carry over water.

Just this morning on the shore,
I could hear two people talking quietly
in a rowboat on the far side of the lake.

They were talking about fishing,
then one changed the subject,
and, I swear, they began talking about you.

Billy Collins


that's all, folks

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