something real
8footwookie's story about his mother (delivered in a wonderfully imaginative and engaging manner - voice posts delivered by a handful of people) made me think about memory versus reality. How much of our past, our reality, is actual fact? Can we change our history by telling new stories?
I was seriously uncool in high school (and elementary, and jr. high), not nerdy, or dorky - just not cool. I had some friends back then, even pretty close ones - I "hung out" with a variety of people - but I made no lasting connections, I have zero friends left from that (rather large) part of my life. And though I have a few vivid memories, I find myself pretty neutral to most of them - or, rather, very few are the memories I choose to keep and relive. That said, I could tell you stories about my childhood and adolescence that you would have no reason to doubt. I could have been anyone, done anything, and no one would be the wiser - in essence, could I not change my past?
There are memories I have, memories that I am positive are real but whose context has been so lost that I question their reality. Then there are those memories that I have that I am sure are false - memories of events that could not or would not have ever happened - but that are so ingrained that I can relive them simply by shutting my eyes.
I have thought on many occasions of my alter-ego that woman I wish I had become - who might have been if not for the choices I have made - and at times I find myself writing her history, imagining her past. What would she have done differently? Some nights, while I lie in bed waiting for Sebastian to drift off to sleep, I close my eyes and imagine my life as my alter-ego. She was self-assured in High School (though I rarely imagine her popular) she didn't obsess about her weight (for good reason - in high school I was hardly porky) or try so hard to fit in. She tried out for the volleyball team, volunteered, didn't give up when things got hard. She didn't fell ashamed to have her own thought, ideas and opinions.
After high school she travelled to India and found things that blew her mind - spirituality and art that made her re-evaluate, that made her really think. She read great books, she wrote, and she painted, and she photographed everything she saw. After a year (sometimes two) she comes back to Canada - Vancouver specifically - and enrols at Emily Carr (when I am feeling really optimistic I imagine her getting a full or partial scholarship). After initially being interested in sculpture, she turns her focus to textile arts, often minoring in graphic design. Never one to do things halfway, she passed with flying colours. After a year or two bumming around Vancouver - showing in local galleries and making enough between freelancing and selling her art to make ends meet, she starts designing something (that ever-elusive "one thing") that she sells through local stores. Whatever it is it takes off. My alter-ego makes enough money to start her own store, which she does all the buying for - allowing her to travel the world looking for all the new it things. She lives in a great, well-designed and eclectically decorated, loft-space, with plenty of room to kick around in, a studio to work in and a fabulous space to entertain in. She goes to gallery openings, has a successful enough store, volunteers, travels, writes a book, does some freelance photography and gets invited to hip parties. She has a unique, well-defined sense of style and is really quite comfortable in her own skin. She eats well, does yoga and only smokes camels occasionally.
One day she meets a local DJ - Stuart Appleby - after a wonderfully romantic, and most importantly, fun courtship they get hitched (the social even of the season?), about a year later they have a wonderful son and name him Sebastian.
Now this is where I stop re-writing the past and start imagining her future - because, of course, this is an unfinished story. I can not regret the decisions I have not yet made. My alter-ego and her DJ have such flexible schedules they share in the stay-at-home parenting as much as possible - eliminating the need for a nanny. The small boy goes almost everywhere his parents go - just like a good urban baby. I see him growing up cultured and well balanced (thanks to the constant efforts of his parents to keep him grounded) - my alter-ego still has a lot of living to do... maybe one day we'll meet.
I know that there are things I can do, ways I can become more like the woman whose unlived life I mourn, but I have even more excuses for why my life will stay the same (least of which being my fear that I am, in fact, a no-talent hack).
My DJ has excuses too...
I guess what I wonder is: if reality is in fact fluid, if the past can be re-interpreted, re-written, can we simply re-invent ourselves? Turn ourselves into the people we've always wanted to be? Is it possible to change the path of your life once you're this far in? Or is it as it seems, that once you find yourself on a path, inside a life, with emotional and economic ties and debts - hanging off you like chains - are you stuck? What does it take to break free? At which point can you begin the metamorphosis (if at all)?
What is the first step?
I was seriously uncool in high school (and elementary, and jr. high), not nerdy, or dorky - just not cool. I had some friends back then, even pretty close ones - I "hung out" with a variety of people - but I made no lasting connections, I have zero friends left from that (rather large) part of my life. And though I have a few vivid memories, I find myself pretty neutral to most of them - or, rather, very few are the memories I choose to keep and relive. That said, I could tell you stories about my childhood and adolescence that you would have no reason to doubt. I could have been anyone, done anything, and no one would be the wiser - in essence, could I not change my past?
There are memories I have, memories that I am positive are real but whose context has been so lost that I question their reality. Then there are those memories that I have that I am sure are false - memories of events that could not or would not have ever happened - but that are so ingrained that I can relive them simply by shutting my eyes.
I have thought on many occasions of my alter-ego that woman I wish I had become - who might have been if not for the choices I have made - and at times I find myself writing her history, imagining her past. What would she have done differently? Some nights, while I lie in bed waiting for Sebastian to drift off to sleep, I close my eyes and imagine my life as my alter-ego. She was self-assured in High School (though I rarely imagine her popular) she didn't obsess about her weight (for good reason - in high school I was hardly porky) or try so hard to fit in. She tried out for the volleyball team, volunteered, didn't give up when things got hard. She didn't fell ashamed to have her own thought, ideas and opinions.
After high school she travelled to India and found things that blew her mind - spirituality and art that made her re-evaluate, that made her really think. She read great books, she wrote, and she painted, and she photographed everything she saw. After a year (sometimes two) she comes back to Canada - Vancouver specifically - and enrols at Emily Carr (when I am feeling really optimistic I imagine her getting a full or partial scholarship). After initially being interested in sculpture, she turns her focus to textile arts, often minoring in graphic design. Never one to do things halfway, she passed with flying colours. After a year or two bumming around Vancouver - showing in local galleries and making enough between freelancing and selling her art to make ends meet, she starts designing something (that ever-elusive "one thing") that she sells through local stores. Whatever it is it takes off. My alter-ego makes enough money to start her own store, which she does all the buying for - allowing her to travel the world looking for all the new it things. She lives in a great, well-designed and eclectically decorated, loft-space, with plenty of room to kick around in, a studio to work in and a fabulous space to entertain in. She goes to gallery openings, has a successful enough store, volunteers, travels, writes a book, does some freelance photography and gets invited to hip parties. She has a unique, well-defined sense of style and is really quite comfortable in her own skin. She eats well, does yoga and only smokes camels occasionally.
One day she meets a local DJ - Stuart Appleby - after a wonderfully romantic, and most importantly, fun courtship they get hitched (the social even of the season?), about a year later they have a wonderful son and name him Sebastian.
Now this is where I stop re-writing the past and start imagining her future - because, of course, this is an unfinished story. I can not regret the decisions I have not yet made. My alter-ego and her DJ have such flexible schedules they share in the stay-at-home parenting as much as possible - eliminating the need for a nanny. The small boy goes almost everywhere his parents go - just like a good urban baby. I see him growing up cultured and well balanced (thanks to the constant efforts of his parents to keep him grounded) - my alter-ego still has a lot of living to do... maybe one day we'll meet.
I know that there are things I can do, ways I can become more like the woman whose unlived life I mourn, but I have even more excuses for why my life will stay the same (least of which being my fear that I am, in fact, a no-talent hack).
My DJ has excuses too...
I guess what I wonder is: if reality is in fact fluid, if the past can be re-interpreted, re-written, can we simply re-invent ourselves? Turn ourselves into the people we've always wanted to be? Is it possible to change the path of your life once you're this far in? Or is it as it seems, that once you find yourself on a path, inside a life, with emotional and economic ties and debts - hanging off you like chains - are you stuck? What does it take to break free? At which point can you begin the metamorphosis (if at all)?
What is the first step?