Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Mandatory Writing
Suddenly, I find myself 29 years old. Merciful heavens, but I am aging.

There is this urge to reconnect, to look up people online and find out what all has been accomplished. So I get to moving: I sign up on three different 'networking' sites and browse by high school and college class and bam. I get what I ask.

Pictures and blogs and citings and mishaps and photos and travels and babies and grad schools--people have been mightily industrious while I've been sitting around. People have been doing things. In fact, I'm aghast at how grown up we all are--that, in of itself, is a feat which I never considered. And so I sit, glancing at photos, a voyeur of these high school fellows. I am not much different now as I was then, staring at people walking down hallways, musing about their lives and hairstyles. Constantly comparing myself to their achievements and reckonings. So-and-so is in France, so-and-so is a lawyer and a social worker and a volunteer for Habitat for Humanity and in her spare time, she knits sweaters for children in Mongolia.

I live in Detroit with a wonderful husband and a cat. I work forty hours a week at a job that is mildly interesting. After that, I am home, knitting or gardening or drinking coffee. This past weekend, Michael and I went to Chicago and did tourist-y things. That was the most thrilling thing we've done since last February, when we moved to this Godforsaken part of the world (N.B. I do love Detroit).

I'm having an existential crisis, thanks to these damnable networking sites. Today, I joined Weight Watchers. Next week, I'm going to a Buddhist temple in order to master the refined art of deprivation and meditation. Next month, I'm enrolling in a graduate program (of what study, I know not. I just have to have more education). Three months from now, I'll be pregnant and learning how to trim topiary. In thirteen months, I will be in Indonesia (baby strapped to my breast), learning Sanskrit and strange yoga poses. One year from now, I will be on the cover of Time Magazine (husband and baby in tow), featured for solving the world's global food crisis (kitchen gardens, duh).

Maybe then, I can face the past.

But the teachings of the Yogis proclaim I must guard myself from these thoughts--these misconceptions of the importance (or unimportance) of my own life. All of these things seem totally egocentric. So: I will meditate. I will try to control my food instead of my food controlling me. I will smile more and have faith in my smile. And maybe (just maybe) I'll think about going back to school. But most importantly, I will love and respect myself.

I will look forward to seeing me in the mirror, and giving to that person as I would anyone else. God is good. Hamas. I am That.

I'm ALL that, and a bag of chips.
Written by FRITZ
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Name: Fritz

Location: Detroit Rock City!
Where the weak are killed and eaten

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    We shall not cease from exploration And the end of all our exploring Will be to arrive where we started And know the place for the first time. Through the unknown, unremembered gate When the last of earth left to discover Is that which was the beginning; At the source of the longest river The voice of the hidden waterfall And the children in the apple-tree Not known, because not looked for But heard, half-heard, in the stillness Between two waves of the sea. Quick now, here, now, always— A condition of complete simplicity (Costing not less than everything) And all shall be well and All manner of thing shall be well When the tongues of flame are in-folded Into the crowned knot of fire And the fire and the rose are one. -T.S. Eliot "Little Gidding"

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