heterological

given that the woman with whom you have a scheduled appointment at 6 pm sharp shows up twenty minutes late, trailing two sticky little girls and a giant beach ball: when you smile vaguely and say 'that's okay, that's okay' when you'd really rather put on an air of semi-haughty annoyance, does such behavior on your part make you charitable or dishonest?

shakespeare once said 'to thine own self be true' (i.e. not to some woman with sticky children). cool. that means i can do whatever i really want. that means i don't have to answer to anyone but my own self. that's simple enough, right?

isn't it?

no. life is pain. life is not simple.

what did i expect? maybe at twelve i couldn't see all the abstract depths of those concepts, self and truth. when you're twelve, forever just means happily ever after. when you're twelve, consequences are faraway things. when you're twelve, maybe all you really want to do is sit under a tree and read.

too bad your mother wants you to wash the dishes.

even if your twelve-year-old self can't see it, her self is a multifaceted, complicated, and fickle growing thing. and she's part of a whole world of other selves. and even without those getting in the way, deep down inside her self she is conflicted.

and that means choices. sides. edges. battlelines.

so which dream do you choose? to which are you truest? what are you going to do?
devour that novel on your desk or spit out the one in your brain?
keep the love laid down in front of you or give it up for a more glorious and open future?
make excuses for running away and being spontaneous, or never run away at all and be safe?

whichever you choose, you get all the consequences too. you can sit and read and finish your book and have your mother yell at you later. you can give up that love in front of you and cry your heart out into your pillow later. you can run away, and then be well and properly homesick.

that's what it all comes down to: consequences. you can ask why forever about how the world is put together. there is no answer. but being haughty and annoyed doesn't make you any friends. (i don't know why that is...i'm no psychologist. possibly the psychologists don't know why either). and if you have no friends, who's going to help you move all your stuff into your new apartment?

sure you could do it yourself. okay.

have fun.

anyway, shakespeare didn't mean do whatever you want or answer to nothing but your own heart. it'd be cool if he did.

but truth is bigger than that. truth needs two points between which to draw a straight line. the speck of dust that is you needs space to sing in.

anyway you mustn't forget, as i was so wont to do at twelve years old, the second half of the line. the bit that gives that self all its space and context:

This above all, to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man.