I Deserved It

I stepped on a tack, you know? The type you use on the cork boards. The type I used to pin up several hundred strips of A Softer World comics to my wall that I had printed out, effectively turning the pink into a monochrome display. It's very nice, actually, to look at. A giant mosaic. A lovely puzzle. I don't draw inspiration from it like I used to, now. But it's still beautiful. 

The tack slipped deep into the skin. I stepped on it quite solidly. Nothing of the sort had ever happened to me before. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared and knew what I had to do. It could not be pushed out with a nudge. It would take a firm grim and a quick, bandaid tug. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that I deserved this, and then I didn't mind. I didn't mind because I knew I caused someone this amount of pain, and now I was receiving my dues, and now it was a punishment that was put out of the way. So I took it between my fingers and tugged.

The pain was harsh, but once it was gone there was a sudden, beautiful relief. It scarcely hurt at all. In two days it was a memory. It felt, in a way, good. 

I deserved that pain, like I deserved all the beautiful things that come my way. And did you know? I have a great many beautiful things in my life. More than I could ever count. More than you could ever imagine. I think secretly we all do, but maybe we don't all like knowing it. Who couldn't be grateful to live a live that, when they walk onto their street and look up, they see the most picturesque skyline? Those trees, some blossom freckled, reaching up endlessly into a clear, deep blue sky. I love it. I love it so deeply. 

But, at the same time, I'm aware vaguely that I live in a horrible neighborhood. My neighbors are drunks. Weekly, they produce four recycle bins worth of glass bottles of various form of hooch. It's nice that they recycle though, isn't it? The neighbor across the way once shot down the street. There have been very loud fights. Our house has undergone some vandalism, from some children in the trailer park who hated me. 

But it is the most beautiful neighborhood in all the world, on clear summer days. And when I look up into the boughs of the trees I know, instantly, that I can fly. I can feel it, as easily as one can look into a pool and understand that one can swim, or see a stretch of land and know they could cross it with their two feet confidently guiding them across. I have always known it, and I have wondered how anyone could ever feel that they could not. I know that I have flown, and that one day I'll fly again, when I deserve it, when I am ready to do so. 

But I have many, many things left to do. So very many! I feel as if life has just begun. I am a small ball of anxiety and bright eyes, waiting for the burden to be put on my shoulders, waiting to grind my fingers to bloodied bits on text books and keyboards. I know I will suffer! But I will deserve it, and I will deserve the achievement I wring out of that suffering! I will have deserved finally reaching my destiny, for I know that is what I strive for. 

People can go their whole lives, pondering why they exist, and I am so wonderfully lucky to know mine so early, to have my youth and my enthusiasm and my fresh ideas and my skills and my talent, to have all these tools to reassure I will not fail. I deserved these skills, as I deserve the monumental obstacles before me, and I will surmount, overcome, and conquer. 

But I know these things like I know I can fly, like I know that good things always come, like I know that I can lay my head down at night and wake in the morning to a world that is undeniably good and beautiful. I know it, but sometimes it's good to see it, written out, shouted out! It is affirmation, an echo of my very heart on screen. How good, how beautiful! 

I want to vandalize rooftops with positive messages, add messages to stop signs so that they say 'stop, think, and love', I want to hug strangers and drink deeply and know that I deserved this beauty, as we all deserve it, that we should all be drunk on it! I 

I am too in love with this world. Is there such a thing? ... No, I don't think that could ever be. I love this world because the world and everything in it is He, incarnate, warm and nurturing. If there is evil, it is him, his benevolence shrouded by our fear and terror and hate. My philosophy does not solve all problems, but it solves all I need to, and who could ever ask for more? 

Oh, but, my day. My day. You know? It was a fine day. I baby sat today, and yesterday. Seven hours I sat in a couch in an adjacent room while two boys, ten and twelve, the sons of two people who are very supportive of our medical mission, played videogames. I read. I read, and read, and once napped. I read Atlas Shrugged of Ayn Rand and I pondered her philosophies. Too much exposure can get you to the point where you think that, maybe, she's right. But I don't really agree in oh so many ways. In particular, in her idea of altruism as such a horrible things. Altruism at the sacrifice of achievement, yes, that is obscene. We should always be granted the ability to chase our better selves, to always improve, simply because we can, to conquer mountains and create great obelisks because it is within out ability. But altruism, sympathy, compassion, unbridled love, for those whom have never had any of it, who have suffered since they fell from the womb and into dirty, glass riddled streets... how could that be wrong? I poised this question to my mother, who could not actively solve the problem '7 x 7' when she asked what my paycheck was, stated simply 'it depends on the society'. And I realized, of course!

Cultures, temperament, society, economy, so many factors! There is no single perfect  government because these factors are across all spectrums. Of course, Rand's opinion stands to right in this society (the majority of the time). Here, in a country where we have the means to fight for occupation (usually), to scrape our way at the very bottom and come to eventually rule the company. It has happened before, it is happening now, and it will happen again. I could see her hatred that those who succeed should bow their heads and grant their backs as stepping stones to men who chose not to struggle for their share of the feast but instead demanded that the dinner be brought into the gutter with them... 

Oh, but, ah. I digress. My day. It was father's day! I am a bad daughter. I had nothing planned. I though, oh, a card. And a dinner. 'Tis all. I knew it was little, but I have been so short-tempered lately, due all to my own fault. I have a horrible sleep schedule. I know I should sleep earlier, but I don't, and my patience has taken a blow. I didn't care, and I was snippy for the majority of the day. Not... too bad. But bad enough for me to notice, if my parents didn't. But we bought the cards and I walked with my dad, and he told me about his golf game. He did very well, losing to Edward by one stroke, and I was very proud of him. It's very good, because he has very little confidence in himself. He psyches himself out in these golf tournaments and it ruins him, when he could otherwise play a very nice game. He has a competitive spirit, deep down. Just like my mother and I. 

But he came in second and it was good. I tended to his conversation and played the dutiful daughter in form of simple tasks, things that show I am thinking of him, obedience in chores that I would of course not deny him, but would not have done smiling. I did it now, today, and it was still too little. I hope I have many more father's days to come, to improve upon the art! It's a holiday we've never celebrated too well, nor with too much skill, love, or caring. I should change that, shouldn't I? And show him how much I care. I think he enjoys that, seeing me care, since for so long I didn't at all. For so long I was such a horrible child, especially to him, because I didn't understand him at all. Now I know, since we've started taking those long walks together as we walk the dog, that he was not disrespecting or trying to antagonize my opinions... he was merely compulsively seeing both sides of every story and showing them to me. Granted, with very poor choice of words and the tendency to play devil's advocate, but, never in the idea to put me in the wrong, to hurt or annoy me. I never understood it, and I don't think it ever occurred to him that this was the root of all our problems. We could have solved it so long ago! We could have been so close again! 

But, I am going away soon, and all the time I can offer him is now, in this summer. I offer it every night in our walks, which are short... but the longest we've ever spent together. By the end of the week, we've accumulated two or three hours worth of time together, getting to know one another again, and I think he's happy. He says he is, and I like to believe it. We get on so much better now! 

It felt good, to write this. All of this. It felt so good to be so positive, and to feel like love and beauty were the main components of my life, the lenses from which I view the world. But sometimes this is not so! Sometimes I forget. Sometimes I am ungrateful, and undeserving. But I stood in the moment today, breathed, and loved despite my irritation, which is so minor and petty in the grand scheme of things. I love, love, love. 

May I always remember what it is to be so wonderfully happy, to feel so pure, to know that I can fly.