Trainspotting

A friend recommended the movie Trainspotting about ten years ago. I finally saw it. And I am still affected by it. The movie, set in Edinburgh/Glasgow, is about a group of herione addicts and has great music and an odd storyline. That is not why I am affected, though. At the end of the movie, the main character, who throughout the film is alternately an addict and clean, ends up coming into money and walks off into the night explaining that he is now going to be "just like you." He recites the things that he will have: a TV, a car, a washer/dryer, a retirement account, children, a mortgage.

How is it that these are the things that we, as adults, aspire to in life?

When, exactly, did the dreaming end? At what phase of life? Where did my goal of joining the Peace Corp go, to be replaced by practicality, by frugality, by actuality? What about my dream of living abroad? Of taking my children with me, and finding a way?

I just cannot get the end of that movie out of my head.

Favorites

As I drove home from work today, I thought about my home. I thought about all of the things in it, and wondered what is the most important to me. I determined that the most important items are my books, and my photographs. I wonder if most people feel the same way.

Excellent Reasoning

"The other day, I was babysitting 6 year old twins. One of them was telling me how she recently became a vegetarian. I curiously asked her why, since no one else in her family was opposed to eating meat. She calmly and seriously replied 'because when animals take over the world in the future, I don't want them to eat me.' Best reason I've ever heard."

-mylifeisaverage.com

Age 38

At age 38, I have learned that some very small words can cut a much sharper hole than I could have imagined.

I have learned that a person may be wise in certain areas of life, but perhaps not so wise in others. (It could be wise to know the difference and to listen to those with more wisdom in their areas of expertise).

I have learned that a 5 hour drive does not always clear your head, and that sometimes a 360 degree panaromic view of water from your hotel window can be very, very sad.

Another Blog!

I have another (work-oriented) blog: kmcnelly.wordpress.com. Check it out!

Growing Up

I am not sure if growing older means taking more risks, or fewer. Maybe it depends on the subject. Does growing up mean growing colder? Do life's experiences tempt us to put up shields?

Does growing older make us more bold, or less? I've been questioning myself. I have been trying the "if you do the same old thing, you get the same result" and have been trying to get outside my comfort zone in certain areas. At this moment, though, I kind of want to be more comfortable again. I'm doing things differently, but suddenly feeling the same results after all.

I guess I'll keep at it.

Life and Loss

When walking the halls at the University of Michigan Health Center as a patient a few years ago, I happened to glance at the wall. An old photograph (presumably, based on their white coats, of medical students from the year 1900 or so) startled me and I stopped to examine. A particular pair of eyes in the photograph, for some reason, seemed to stare right at me, talking to me through the years. I was struck by the concept that if I had met him in person walking down that hall, we would smile, say hello, and go about our day without a second thought. Instead, this person lived 100 years earlier.

Eventually I continued down the hall, but the image stuck with me. I considered this: the person in that photo, who was every bit as real as I am now, experienced the very same things that I experience today. Happiness. Sorrow. Excitement. Frustration. Love. Loss.

Life.

Why do we think that our lives are so unique? Why do we allow ourselves to feel so alone (which we all do, in some way or another) when in fact so many others have felt exactly as we feel today, regardless of what that feeling is? The basic human experience is the same. Yet, somehow, that knowledge fails to give comfort in times of sadness.

Today marks the three year anniversary of a friend/mentor's death. It feels impossible and it still feels wrong. It's still very sad. I am sure his children, parents, nieces, and siblings feel alone. And nope- it really doesn't help to think about all of the people over the course of the world who have lost people they cared about. It doesn't help to wonder what those eyes staring at me on the U of M wall experienced in his life, whether he lost friends. At the end of the day,
we are born alone, we die alone, and there are times along the way that we just feel alone.