The Terror of Knowing What This World is About, or Wisdom Garnered from Dr. Macy

I often think of my life as a Lifetime movie. I imagine this beginning shot, a pan over the mountains of Southern Appalachia, probably backed up by some twangy bluegrass music, and then this sound of a baby crying (me) and the happy shining faces of the actors who would play my parents. My life would progress, full of defining moments where some person gives me a nugget of wisdom. And then you would see me, graduating from college or something, and you'd say "Wow, she made it. HOT DAMN! That little hillbilly made it through school!" and then you'd go to bed or finish your ironing and forget all about it. What I had "made" would be questionable but you wouldn't care. That would be the end of my story, the end of whatever.

But, strangely enough, life is not like a Lifetime movie. Life is filled with beginnings and endings, and what's really cool about it is they intersect. There are beginnings in every ending, endings in every beginning. It's all very Oprah, I guess. And sometimes the best parts of life come at times that are neither beginning or ending. Times that just are.

I write this because I just finished War and Peace, and in true Tolstoyan form, the ending is intriguing and thought-provoking, but not in a traditional way. The story just ends. It's like riding that ride at Six Flags where the bottom just flies out and you fly down, screaming in mock-fear. I mean, someone who is much smarter than me can probably find the "ending" in Tolstoy's ending. But I can't, and I like it that way. In the end you wonder if Pierre will ever truly find out the meaning for his existence, if Prince Andrew's son will be cool, if Mary will ever look something other than "plain." It's interesting and very realistic I think.

I feel very strange today, like I should be understanding more than I'm understanding, saying more than I'm saying. I don't know. I want so much to figure it all out, to share it, to say the perfect thing at the perfect time so that those I love won't be sad anymore. Last night I was watching Crossing Jordan (a bit hoky at times, but still just so fucking enjoyable) and Dr. Macy, says something about being 21 and "having the world by the balls," i.e. thinking one knows everything, when in reality you don't have shit figured out, you're just cocky and somewhat drunk. I felt jipped. I'm 21, and I don't feel like that. I know that I will never feel like that, that you can never have it totally figured out, that that's the way of life, and so you best not fuck with it. It's frustrating.

On that note, I should go. I have an annotated bibliography of my final project for Southern writers due tomorrow, and while I have all the materials, I haven't done the legwork yet. So I should do that. And I should write my paper on W&P for Wednesday, and try to convey how much I love that book into 6 pages of shoddy writing. Ho hum. C'est la vie, I guess. C'est la vie.