I still equate the return of chilly weather and the scent of bonfires with a new (school) year. The fact that I'm not going to class (as either a teacher or a student), has brought a mini-depression, if I must admit it. Just think for a minute. If you're fortunate enough to go to grade school, secondary school, and then, college, you've spent approximately 18 years adjusting to the routine, the carefully planed and themed lessons, the week-long breaks in late December and early spring, and the constant absorption of names, dates, equations, theories, and "facts." While in school, you're constantly reminded that you're preparing yourself for growing up, for living in the real world, for getting a real job and paying your bills on time; but, you never learn any of this from your homework, pop quizzes, or final exams. You never are told how an ordinary day only becomes what you make of it. You are instead told to follow the rules, connect the dots, and be on time or else your grade will drop or you'll get a detention slip. There are no specific tests or homework assignments on how to treat others, how to know the difference between what you're good at and what you should be doing, how to go from being entirely dependent on your parents to not at all, how to live your life without following others, how to control your jealousy, how to build self-confidence, or how to just be "yourself."
You grasp these concepts and understandings through time, experience, repeating mistakes over and over again, reading (a lot) of physical books, going to unfamiliar places without breaking out the GPS or map, and spending time alone (especially after spending an afternoon surrounded by friends, family, or peers). Why then, do I crave the classroom more now than ever before? Furthermore, do you? Could you care less? Do you recognize this feeling I'm attempting to describe or did you shout "Hallelujah!" upon receiving your diploma?
I recently finished the latest novel by Meg Wolitzer. I bookmarked one of those "Books to Read This Fall" lists, added
The Interestings to my requested library holds, and finished its 480 pages four days later. I'm terrible at accidentally giving away the ending to anything, so I'll try to be as vague as possible. Essentially, Wolitzer explores Jules Jacobson's life, starting with those awkward, yet exciting teenage years. Throughout each chapter of Jules' life, Wolitzer fleshes out the ebb and flow of jealousy (rooted in each and every friendship), the feeling of insecurity that never seems to leave (no matter one's age), and the distinct, yet, often overlooked difference between nostalgia and reality. I can't attest to what's written about married life (with or without children), but I can affirm that Wolitzer pens the twentysomething years as a perfect mixture of confusion, transformation, and dedication.
When I was fourteen, I was given a journal. The cover is a shimmery gold with three, black Chinese characters; when read together, they translate to "Imagination." I decided this would be a different journal. I started writing down famous quotations, browsing the Internet for as long as I could before getting disconnected by an incoming phone call. Thoughts from Helen Keller and Benjamin Franklin fill the first few pages. I slowly moved away from stalking the unending pages of quotation websites and started to write down sections of books or poems that stuck with me, hit me in the gut, made me cry, made me laugh, made me stop in my tracks and reread a second, or even third time. Last night, I broke out my black pen for the first time in months, and added the following quotations from Wolitzer's book (in cursive, if you must know).
"This was a time of life, she understood, in which you might not know what you were, but that was all right. (...) The time period between the ages of, roughly 20 & 30, was often amazingly fertile. Great work might get done during this ten-year slice of time. Just out of college, they were gearing up, ambitious, not in a calculating way, but simply eager, not yet tired" (59).
This paragraph, if we're talking baseball, is a grand slam. It explores a trio of thoughts one must possess in order to pass the twentysomethings course in life (or so I believe after living through the first five years). First, you know and accept the fact that you don't know who you are or what you're doing. Second, you are still growing. (Well, mentally... Physically, I stopped growing at 16). Third, you are excited and ready (in your mind) for what's to come.
"Instead, it took nearly two months, a period during which they each performed their separate life tasks in seeming preparation for nothing, but which turned out to be preparation for so much" (70).
I keep telling myself that the past year and a half is leading me somewhere, preparing me for a huge life moment or a place I don't know even exists yet, but will. As much as I rant to peers and friends, I'd like to highlight the fact that you should always appreciate the mundane lifestyle while you have it.
"And Yvonne said, 'We are all here on this earth for only one go around. And everyone thinks their purpose is to find their passion. But perhaps our purpose is also to find out what other people need" (220).
Yvonne's words sting, but Jules needed to hear them to take the leap out of acting and into psychology. Sometimes interests and hobbies don't turn into anything more than just that. I've already figured that out with belly dancing. Now, the hard part, is figuring out what people need from me.
"Everyone tended to believe everything was their fault;' maybe it was just hard to imagine, when you were still fairly young, that there were some things in the world that were not just about you" (275).
I still have not learned to only say "I'm sorry" when the result of an action is entirely my fault. I'm working on it (and trying to remember it's not about me!)
"Manny shook his head and said, 'Oh, come on. You're telling me that because of the Internet, and the availability of everyone, every whim, every tool, suddenly everyone's an artist? But here's the thing; If everyone's an artist, then none is' " (380).
Amen, Manny, A-holy of holiest-men.
If you find yourself doubting your life, your interests, your relationships, you mistakes and your successes, I strongly encourage you to pick up a copy of
The Interestings. My ambition battery is recharged and ready to go as a result of following Jules through life. For an extra bonus, or in case you simply want musical inspiration as well, check out this
lovely artist, Jessie Ware.
Out and over to ponder life a bit longer over a cup of Moroccan mint tea,
La petite pamplemousse
