Month: July 2004

The years that are gone seem like dreams — if one might go on sleeping and dreaming — but to wake up and find — oh! well! perhaps it is better to wake up after all, even to suffer, rather than to remain a dupe to illusions all one’s life. — Kate Chopin

There was a time that I was more than content to wallow in denial. Hell, I was even in denial about being in denial. It can be comfortable, but like all things that are comfortable, you aren’t really growing in that situation. And it does no good to live in the past. Remember the past, learn from it and embrace your future and present. Go ahead and live a little. It’ll be okay.

I must agree that it is far better to suffer the pain and inconvenience of seeking out the truth than to dream the dream of collective ignorance. Pass the caffeine, please.

For the sense of smell, almost more than any other, has the power to recall memories and it is a pity that we use it so little. – Rachel Carson

I went grocery shopping this morning, just picking up a few items to stash in my desk (bottled water, multi-vitamins, plastic utensils, fat free pudding) and a yogurt for breakfast. I had some spare time, so I meandered over to the fruit and veggie bins. The smell of the cantaloupe catapulted back to living with my grandparents as a young child. Sitting at the table with my grandpa, eating fresh cantaloupe from the garden, talking about whatever it is that six year old girls who worship their grandfathers discuss with them.

It was a cool memory and washed over me like the first up-to-the-shoulders dip in a swimming pool. I can not say whether it was oddly pleasant or bittersweet but only that it was. I thought of him and pushed away any bad thoughts or memories, focusing on that single moment of ripe, juicy, sticky, sweet snacking and chatting. The memory warmed and I felt myself smiling. Just a bit at the corners, barely noticeable to the produce clerk, but quite obvious to me.

For if there is a sin against life, it consists perhaps not so much in despairing of life as in hoping for another life and in eluding the implacable grandeur of this life. – Albert Camus