“You once said to me that I talk like a man in a book. I not only talk, but think and feel like one. I have spent my life in books; literature has deeply dyed my brain its own colour. This literary colouring is a protective one--like the brown of the rabbit or the checks of the quail--making it impossible for me to tell where literature ends and I begin.”
-Nathanael West
In the past, I've spoken of my love for moments and how I've always had a tendency to live my life through them. There's nothing like that first wave at sunset, or meeting up with someone you haven't seen in years, or finally reading a book that you've been looking forward to for months. For me, moments make life worth living, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
One of the consequences of such a mindset is that you spend a lot of time looking forward to things, in full-blown anticipation of the moments to come. There's this cliché mantra of "living in the moment, seizing the day" that I've always found fascinating but never really understood (I'm guessing that's why it's a cliché to begin with). I used to live in the past, and now I spend most of my time living in the future. There's nothing wrong with that--I enjoy it greatly. You could say the greatest sense of anticipation I feel on a daily basis is the promise that one day, I will no longer have to look toward the future because I've found everything I'm looking for, but once again, that means we're venturing in cliché-territory. I find no great sandness in the way I see the world. Anticipation is a good thing, at least for me. The high you experience as you live on a cloud, with those much-desired moments right around the corner, is what gets me through the day. Without it, life is a monotone sequence of events that's played on repeat. I'd much rather be giddy with excitement over what tomorrow, or next week, or next month might bring. In fact, the further away my prospective moment is, the more I like it.
And sometimes, relying so heavily on moments and anticipation can come back to bite you in the arse. I've spent the past few weeks on a cloud, breezing through the day as I looked forward to one of those moments. Only, it never came. The result was as obvious as it was inevitable, like a balloon that deflated (hur-hur) in a hurry. You're left with this great pit of nothing, and a truckload of unfullfilled expectations.
There's anger, confusion and a whole range of emotions you go through, for a short period, but ultimately, the nothingness takes over. You give yourself the old-man-speech (I'm not mad, just disappointed) and accept that the weeks or months you spent anticipating this moment were a huge waste of time. Or maybe it wasn't--after all, the anticipation pushed you forward, and made you enjoy life just a little more. Sure, there are questions, and the incredible urge not to accept what happened, but ultimately, it doesn't really matter. It's a damn shame, but at least it was fun while it lasted.
So, what's next? You return to the monotone existance, realising there's bound to be another moment right around the corner. And in the meantime, you stick your head in the sand. Headphones on, world off. And if you feel so inclined, you might as well try and write it off.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a date with a bottle of red wine and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.
Song of the Day: Admiral Freebee - Rags and Run
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ajd810dHxcM
