I always thought life is more about guessing. You can’t really know anything for sure (take religion or prices at McDonalds). You can’t really define the strongest emotions (and those are very important), you can’t really know if you’re going to make it after all (even if in Highschool everybody thought you will) and you can’t really know when black turns white and vice versa. And it worked for me, until it didn’t. The change came when I realized that I know exactly what I want all the time but I’m a chicken (I don’t know why they use this bird for cowardness when it’s a monument for stupidity), meaning I can’t make decisions unless they aren forced, induced or even fed with caramel. Even if I always knew what I wanted and my parents always let me choose whatever I want to do, I somehow ended up going the “wrong” direction. If to the right is a coffee shop with nice colourful windows and at the left is a library with comfortable couches (and I do like sitting confortable on my ass), I will choose the middle path hoping some of those two very different institutions has a magnet for featherless chicken. Well, funny, and sometimes annoying thing, is that it always worked. The magnet was somewhere and, as I concluded later, it’s there mostly by accident. Accidents are signs for me. These are certain unexplicable marks of destiny. I take them as facts and they love me. So now, after I got into a “getting older” vibe, I started to become more cynical, meaning I have my certainties and they are not puffy. It’s not like I’m not guessing anymore, I do, but I know that I’m doing it. I guess what can happen next, but I don’t really make plans, so my “next” is just few seconds away. I know the planet is round and that my kitchen table is too high and I know that I’m not capable of organizing myself (but somehow I like it) and that my mother really believes in me no matter what and that my boyfriend doesn’t have a clue who I really am, but that doesn’t change the fact that I still need to guess. After all, we all become the people we don’t want and it’s not because we get married and we have to, it’s because we always guessed who we really were…even though we always knew it. And it’s good, otherwise the world will be full of firemen and prostitutes. Which doesn’t sound bad, but still…try and picture it! …Ok, Try again.
Long story short, for the men overboard, stop making assumptions, just take it! (as some of my friends would say)
