Auld Lang Sigh

I like to think that everyone on this earth experiences some sort of mental function eclipse when they’re going to see old friends….that I am not the only one who suddenly begins to take a very negative stock of me. I’m convinced that there are tiny ego stockbrokers running around inside my head shrieking, “Oh god, “Ass in Jeans” just fell 20 points on news of a reunion…sell, sell!!”

Frankly, seeing old friends is quite like getting married. You know you’re happy, you really really are. And yet, you can’t deny the fact that you vaguely feel the need to vomit. Should a trip down memory lane make you car sick?

Is there any doubt that the real thing keeping the Diet industry going is reunions? And I also suspect that reunions are twice as responsible for midlife crisis’ than any young blonde. That seed of discontent in your head starts getting a WHOLE lot of fertilizer to help it root.

You’ve heard that the definition of insanity is constantly doing the same thing and expecting different results. I’d say it’s hanging your head over that fence gazing longingly at the grass over there. Even worse it’s imagining some cows over there on the other side snorting their mocking bovine snorts.

But why? Why do we let those feelings sink its teeth into us? Why is it so easy to believe the worst about ourselves, and so hard to believe the best?

When we gather up the shreds of ego after things like this, you hope that you can remember the way it’s supposed to work. Success isn’t where you are, it’s really how you feel about where you are.

Trite platitudes to follow:
The hardest thing to learn is that it’s not about living up to other people; the only measuring stick that counts against your life is your own conscience. My point in all this is: we’re where we are for a reason...questioning it just means we don’t understand it. We all begin the same way and we all end up the same way. They’re right when they say that any day above ground is an accomplishment.

Did you love? Were you loved? Yes? Then job well done.

(But I still want a Jag)