When I wrote my Latin final at UBC, it wasn’t going well. I sat at my desk, an ancient language mocking me. If I failed this exam, my degree would go with it. My future hung in the words of the past, the words of the Caesars, yes, but the past nonetheless. When I finished my exam I added a line: alea iacta est. The die is cast. These are the famous words spoken by Julius Caesar as his army crossed the Rubicon into the Republic. It was a move he could not retract. I passed my exam.
Now, I find myself in a similar situation. My stomach is in knots as I await the result of a meeting Friday night. Two people will sit down to discuss their futures, and, in doing so, will discuss mine as well. I was led into this willingly as we so often are. I am not a naive man in any sense of the word unless it comes to matters of the heart where I tend to strike fast because my passion outweighs my judgement at every step.
To love a person is almost a cruel joke. Idealism and fantasy clash with realism at almost every step. My heart leaps when thoughts of this woman enter my mind and I just can’t stop. Some friends have told me to just drop it and walk away. But I cannot. I cannot walk away until I know for sure. The prize is just too worth it. Our discussions have opened my heart to a world I possibilities I never thought imaginable until now. It feels too right to be wrong but the universe and I have had similar jousts. Some of them I won; most resulted in my bloodied armour being dragged from the field.
Will it happen this time? I fear that it will. But we all fear such an outcome. I am unwilling to express my true feelings on the outcome here because I don’t want to jinx it. But I also know she’ll say “no.”
There, I said it. Damn it all.
There have been moments in my life when I wanted to take my library and burn it. All those words of hope and love clouded the despair of those that wrote them. I survived those moments and remain an adherent and disciple of those men and women who wrote the words that have brought so much pleasure and pain into my life.
The death of my father sent me into a tailspin that ended with a mythologized trip to a video store and police shotguns. The loss of my nephew put a dent in me that I just can’t straighten out. The death of my heart would be the death of me. I fear I would revert to my ultra-narcissistic and dangerous ways. And it is not self-pity. It is an awful pragmatism when one realizes that his path is such that for every step forward he takes, he is delivered not a reward but a crushing blow.
Like Nietzsche’s slaves, we comfort ourselves by saying, “Nice guys finish last” and a bunch of other Hallmark platitudes designed to sugar coat the harsh reality that life is cruel and nonpartisan. The law of averages dictates that if you surround yourself with goodness your chances of evil encroaching upon you are greatly reduced. Tell that to my nephew.
It is a gorgeous day outside today and yet here I sit, keeping counsel with my typewriter. I will go outside today, but I fear the sunlight. In here, I can amuse myself with the gadgetry of our age and try not to over think the next 36 hours of my life. When I go outside, I will be thinking of nothing but the joy of being a family walking in that sunshine for the rest of our lives. I’ll do that Saturday or never at all.
We didn’t make it to Friday but parted with a tender “Goodnight.” Tomorrow, the sun will rise and I will walk in the sunshine. If it rains, I’ll bring an umbrella and walk in all the puddles.
(I was just about to post this entry but decided to check the channel listings before doing so. It was playing Here Comes The Sun. Fucking universe… you really just gotta love it.)