It's been a while.

I know, I know. I haven't written on here in FOR-EV-ER. And when I do, this is what you get, right? Sorry. Maybe I should put a nice, shiny picture up on this post to attract the reader. Maybe I will. Nah.

This post might not be that interesting. It's an exercise that I just finished for my writing class. I had to use a famous line for the closing line of the piece. (Hence, the quote from good ol' Socrates at the end.) Sorry about the generic nature of the post, but I have a feeling that's gonna happen a lot during this semester. (I'm taking 15 hours.) Here it is.

There was a time when flowers were just flowers and birds were just birds. Before they were begonias and chickadees. There was a time when water was just water. Before it was one molecule of oxygen and two of hydrogen. There was a time when love was just love. Before it was painful and confusing and slippery. Of course, the birds always had been chickadees, the flowers begonias. (At least since Adam came along and named everything.) Water had always been composed of hydrogen and oxygen. And love always had the potential to be painful and confusing and slippery. She just hadn’t known any of these things.

But knowing is half the battle. What did that mean, anyway? It was all much simpler when things were . . . simple. Before she saw death in the form of a butterfly being consumed by ants when she was five. Before her mother explained that beautiful butterflies die too, but only after they have laid eggs and fulfilled their life’s mission. Of course she didn’t use the word “mission.” A five-year-old doesn’t understand the word “mission.”

Things were much simpler before her little brother got leukemia. Before she met the first bald four-year-old she had ever seen. Things were much simpler before she knew what red blood cells and white blood cells and platelets were. Before she knew that children like her died too, long before they had children themselves. Long before they had fulfilled their lives’ missions.

Knowing is half the battle. Was she better off knowing leukemia intimately? Was she better off knowing that there was no such thing as a life’s mission?

Things were much simpler before she picked up Steinbeck and Dostoevsky and Kafka and (God forbid) Nietzsche. Before she flooded her brain with thoughts from others. On purpose. Before she empathized with unsympathic characters. Before she cried when Lenny died and Gregor got squished.

Things were much simpler before she met him. Before she noticed how his awkward walk was really quite attractive, in an odd, odd way. Before she noticed that his humor was akin to her own – sarcastic, cutting, quick. Before they bonded over Nirvana and making fun of people. But that’s what happens, right? In high school? With pheromones and close quarters? Things were much simpler before she cared, before she realized he didn’t care. (Ah, unrequited love. The stuff art thrives on. Over and over. Endlessly.)

Things were much simpler before her best friend got pregnant at seventeen and before 9/11 and before she began to understand that the image she had of herself wasn’t a healthy one. Things were much simpler before she realized she needed to change some things about herself. Quite a few things, actually.

Things were much simpler before she moved to the city. In a different state. In a different region. In a different world. Things were much simpler before she empathized with the stranger beside her on the subway or on the bus, before she wondered what kind of life they went home to every night, before she wondered what their childhood was like. Things were much simpler before she wondered what they strongly believed in, what they thought about when the television was turned off and the silence surrounded them.

Things were much simpler before she loved. Before she loved the chickadees and the begonias and the butterfly. Things were much simpler before she loved the bald boy, and Lenny, and him. Before she loved him. Before she loved victims and neighbors and the city. Before she learned that she needed to love herself.

Things were much simpler before. But knowing – knowing is half the battle. Ignorance is not bliss. And “the unexamined life is not worth living.”