(No matter what, DON'T) Follow That Dream
I've been swamped this past week, and I haven't been feeling well, so not much writing of any sort has been accomplished. I've been wanting to write something about Irish crime fiction for a long time, but enough people have been doing that I'm only going to look like a bandwagon jumper, but so be it. There are a few other things as well, all requiring more time and energy to do them justice than I've been able to generate. But the worm will turn, I hope.
With time and chronic illness, I find that I look back more and more on all the things I've done in my life that make me absolutely cringe. There are far too many. But I've always thought than when you break up with your girlfriend, no matter how bad your relationship has been, there was at least some good spread around in there. And over time, for whatever reason, you tend to forget the bad and remember that good. Perhaps that's why so many men pine after lost relationships and do the classic breakup regret, I can change thing, only to eventually recover their pride and self esteem and only then actually let go.
I'm finding I'm looking at past life inversely to that, I'm remembering the bad and forgetting the good. This is probably no way to be, and I wonder why that is. Rather than look back with satisfaction at anything I may have accomplished, any positive difference I may have made in anyone's life, I seem to focus on my mistakes and feel bad about them.
Lately I've been thinking about how things could have been worse.
At some point as a strapping young man, I found I enjoyed musicals like "Singing in the Rain" and "My Fair Lady." This may not sound like the past time of a strapping young man, but bear with me. There is a positive energy to those movies, part of it from the wonderful songs, part of it from the charisma of a Gene Kelly or an Audrey Hepburn (or the brilliant Stanley Holloway, who played Eliza's dad). I know some people don't like musicals at all, they feel that the spontaneous breaking out into song is too much to swallow.
But would that really be so bad? Granted, breaking out into a full 112 piece orchestra-backed production number with bystanders and pedestrians joining in with perfectly timed choreography might be a tad cumbersome, but what about if it were much simpler?
At another point, I discovered Elvis movies. Yes, there were the serious ones like Jailhouse Rock and King Creole and those are fine and show a young Elvis who really could have been a fine and appealing actor, but it was the silly ones that were just sort of goofy fun. And when Elvis broke into song, it was often just himself and a guitar, or just a simple band, or, if he was playing a musician in the film, his onscreen back up band.
Elvis made this work. He could be walking with a pretty girl in the moonlight, pluck a flower from a passing bush, gently tuck it into the girl's hair, and start singing. Why can't this work, I always thought. It looks good in the movies. I'm sure I gave this way too much thought.
So when I look back at the things I've done or the ways I've behaved or the decisions I've made that make me shrivel in horror at their images in the mirror of time, it occurs to me, it could have been worse. It could have always been worse. I could have actually but my silverware down, taken the hand of whichever unfortunate girl I happened to have brought with me, walked through a restaurant and started singing. It probably would have been an Elvis song from one of his goofy movies, like "Wooden Heart" maybe.
And lord knows what would have happened then. Probably nothing good. I'm sure the notion had occurred to me more times than is healthy but thank whomever may be up wherever, I never pulled the trigger. Oh my god. If I'm feeling bad about not doing this when I should have done that, doing this when I shouldn't have done that, imagine how I'd be feeling if you could throw in a dollop of failed and spontaneous Elvis impersonation? This would certainly be from the pre-"Thank you very much" rhinestoned jumpsuit days, when Elvis still had the cool, but it wouldn't have mattered.
I can look back and know a disaster when I see one. Saddled with regrets of things both done and undone, I can at least feel good that I had never, not once, actually done the Elvis/musical thing. It would have been too much to remember, I'd go blind from hysterical shock. Looking back at my life now I'm not sure how I could survive the embarrassment. And you should note that right now, at this very moment, there is no guitar anywhere in my house. Some things are best left alone.
With time and chronic illness, I find that I look back more and more on all the things I've done in my life that make me absolutely cringe. There are far too many. But I've always thought than when you break up with your girlfriend, no matter how bad your relationship has been, there was at least some good spread around in there. And over time, for whatever reason, you tend to forget the bad and remember that good. Perhaps that's why so many men pine after lost relationships and do the classic breakup regret, I can change thing, only to eventually recover their pride and self esteem and only then actually let go.
I'm finding I'm looking at past life inversely to that, I'm remembering the bad and forgetting the good. This is probably no way to be, and I wonder why that is. Rather than look back with satisfaction at anything I may have accomplished, any positive difference I may have made in anyone's life, I seem to focus on my mistakes and feel bad about them.
Lately I've been thinking about how things could have been worse.
At some point as a strapping young man, I found I enjoyed musicals like "Singing in the Rain" and "My Fair Lady." This may not sound like the past time of a strapping young man, but bear with me. There is a positive energy to those movies, part of it from the wonderful songs, part of it from the charisma of a Gene Kelly or an Audrey Hepburn (or the brilliant Stanley Holloway, who played Eliza's dad). I know some people don't like musicals at all, they feel that the spontaneous breaking out into song is too much to swallow.
But would that really be so bad? Granted, breaking out into a full 112 piece orchestra-backed production number with bystanders and pedestrians joining in with perfectly timed choreography might be a tad cumbersome, but what about if it were much simpler?
At another point, I discovered Elvis movies. Yes, there were the serious ones like Jailhouse Rock and King Creole and those are fine and show a young Elvis who really could have been a fine and appealing actor, but it was the silly ones that were just sort of goofy fun. And when Elvis broke into song, it was often just himself and a guitar, or just a simple band, or, if he was playing a musician in the film, his onscreen back up band.
Elvis made this work. He could be walking with a pretty girl in the moonlight, pluck a flower from a passing bush, gently tuck it into the girl's hair, and start singing. Why can't this work, I always thought. It looks good in the movies. I'm sure I gave this way too much thought.
So when I look back at the things I've done or the ways I've behaved or the decisions I've made that make me shrivel in horror at their images in the mirror of time, it occurs to me, it could have been worse. It could have always been worse. I could have actually but my silverware down, taken the hand of whichever unfortunate girl I happened to have brought with me, walked through a restaurant and started singing. It probably would have been an Elvis song from one of his goofy movies, like "Wooden Heart" maybe.
And lord knows what would have happened then. Probably nothing good. I'm sure the notion had occurred to me more times than is healthy but thank whomever may be up wherever, I never pulled the trigger. Oh my god. If I'm feeling bad about not doing this when I should have done that, doing this when I shouldn't have done that, imagine how I'd be feeling if you could throw in a dollop of failed and spontaneous Elvis impersonation? This would certainly be from the pre-"Thank you very much" rhinestoned jumpsuit days, when Elvis still had the cool, but it wouldn't have mattered.
I can look back and know a disaster when I see one. Saddled with regrets of things both done and undone, I can at least feel good that I had never, not once, actually done the Elvis/musical thing. It would have been too much to remember, I'd go blind from hysterical shock. Looking back at my life now I'm not sure how I could survive the embarrassment. And you should note that right now, at this very moment, there is no guitar anywhere in my house. Some things are best left alone.
posted by Rick Ollerman at 9:19 AM
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