Friday, July 13, 2012

Why Moments Matter & Assholes Do Not

If you ever - even for just one second - cease believing that life can change in an instant, then consider that this evening I shall accompany the Missus down to Brick so that I can join her in paying her respects to a friend of hers with whom the Missus used to work.  Her friend Laura and Laura's family are grieving the death of Laura's brother, who died several days after he was tragically injured in a July 4th accident that had left him paralyzed from the neck down.  The moment before his injury occurred, his life was moving along a particular trajectory.  Then, in the very next moment, everything changed. 

Were life a work of fiction, then we would be free to write ourselves as the heroic, difference-making superstars we wish we were.  I should not project my own limitations outward.  You might very well be all that and more.  Me?  I am Walter Mitty.  I say that without a trace of self-deprecation.  It is simply an acknowledgement that life is in fact a non-fiction work.  Records are kept.  Histories are made.  The great Oscar Wilde once famously observed that, "No man is rich enough to buy back his past."  I am certainly not rich enough to reinvent mine. 

I received an e-mail or two yesterday from friends who thought that perhaps I had taken ill or some other miracle had occurred when they did not see a link to this silliness on Facebook.  I assured them (and written word afforded them the means to cloak their disappointment) that I am fine.  I simply decided to stop linking this to that.  I was at home the other evening as the Missus and Gidg were chatting in the kitchen and I ended up as I invariably do horsing around on the computer.  The gods of Facebook inform me that I have 290 "Friends".  Really?  I am hard-pressed to name half that number of people as acquaintances out in the real world.  I have no understanding from whence a number such as 290 has come. 

It made me think that perhaps this little piece of real estate, which is my sanctuary, is in danger of becoming - or even worse has already become - some type of performance piece.  While I suppose at least to a degree it always has been (why else would one write something in a format that encourages comments and why would that someone share it on-line), I fear that the cart may end up before the horse.  Actually I fear that that may have happened already.  In the hope that it has not, I have decided to separate this from Facebook.  Good news to the rest of the world - including all 290 intimates who call me "Friend" - I am not deactivating my FB account. 

I reckon a case could be made for the belief that there are no pre-ordained "big moments" in life.  Instead a moment is merely a moment right up until its brief life is lived.  It is what happens within that eye blink that determines whether that moment was "big" or something else altogether.  If I may be so bold as to offer a piece of unsolicited advice, which I need myself to be far better at adhering to than I am every now and again (and have been simply dreadful dealing with lately), do not waste your life's moments on an asshole.

Assholes abound.  They are as prevalent as dust and slightly more irritating.  As a general rule, while each of us knows that our life is comprised of moments, we do not know which shall be our last one.  And we do not know which one shall be the one that changes everything.  No one should miss out on such a moment by having spent it instead with an asshole.

Seems like a logical stopping point; right?


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