Moving On

Though I have tried to pass myself off as intellectually deep and philosophical, there are two somewhat simple issues that are probably very easy for others to deal with, yet they disturb me to the core and rattle my very being. For the longest time, I have believed that I am not apt to effectively handle change; nor am I fully equipped to come to terms with reality. Over this absence I have at least made the realization that the struggles I have had with these issues could have easily been deterred.

I have strived for the constants and the traditional; yet the only true constant is change. Now then can I survive in such a paradoxical world? Over my twenty years, I have been extremely fortunate (or unfortunate, depending on your viewpoint) in that I have had to deal with as little change as possible. No close relatives have passed away. I have lived in the same house, in the same room, for twenty years. My core of closest friends has been the same since preschool, pretty much.

Earlier in the summer, my sister brought home a little kitten. A fully healthy kitten, not just something she found on the street, mind you. Save a one day failed experiment with sea monkeys, I had never had a pet before, so I was very apprehensive and downright unhappy. The first day, I was angry at my sister and my parents for making this decision without consulting me. It was because things weren't going to be as they always have been. Guess what? I love that cat. She and I get along very well, and when I have to get up early for work, she waits by the fridge as I pour my milk.

A couple weeks ago, I was faced with the reality that our family was moving. Not very far, mind you, just a few miles to the next town over. However, the idea of change rocked me to the core. My residence at 6502 Parkside Drive (come stalk me, fools... I'm only here two more weeks anyways) was the only place I ever called home. The idea of living anywhere else bothered me, and scared me. It was my perceived inability to deal with change. Guess what? I'm fine with it. The place we are moving to is amazing. Has a lot more room than our current place. Heh, if you're nice to me, I may have you over for dinner.

Now, on to the my slightly skewed perception of reality. There are times in my life where I have viewed to be what actually was more along the lines of what I wished could be. Any time I have failed at something, I haven't been able to man up and come to grips with the fact that I gave my all, and it just wasn't enough. For the longest time, I had myself convinced that I could have been a great basketball player for TPHS, but the problem was strictly in the hands of the coaches. Heh, no. I didn't have the drive or commitment that it would have taken to do so.

For the better part of five years, I had a crush on a girl I met at camp. She was absolutely beautiful (and still is), but we had nothing in common. Anyways, she had an on-again, off-again boyfriend, so things looked doubtful. But I always believed that I would eventually show her what she was missing and how a guy should be. At one point, after three years of good friendship, I laid it all out on the line, told her how I felt about her, and asked her to do the same for me. To my dismay, she really wasn't all that interested in me. But that didn't stop me. I still held out the eternal hope that one day we would be together. I ignored the fact that we had nothing in common, lived two hours apart, and were not really all that compatible.

I spent all that time chasing a dream when the reality was that I never had a chance. If I had kept a more grounded view of reality, I would have spared myself hurt, embarrassment, and looking like an idiot. I always thought I just needed to try a bit harder, but I gave it all I could.

So, the last few months I have truly learned two things: that my perceived fear of change was all in my head, and that my view of reality has been one that has been slightly skewed. Now that I'm moving on and improving by the day, there's no stopping me now.