Oh dear lord save me from the chick flicks, especially the really good ones. I’ve been reduced to a blubbering mass on the couch repeating “that was so good” over and over. But what can I say? I have no defense of my girliness…I am after all a girl. Sometimes I fool people into forgetting that, but sit me down in front of a good movie with only myself for company and rest assured. I put all my girlfriends to shame. Yes, I am pathetic. Hear me roar.

I have had many thoughts since the time I wrote last. Always I mean to write them down, and always I do not. I know a definitive is a very powerful word choice, but in this case it applies. I do always mean to write them down and I always do not. In any case I shall get to the point.

I have so many things I could ramble about so forgive me if this drags on. I keep deleting what I type in an effort to save you all from reading information you have neither want nor need to know.

I had a most interesting weekend. Most of it was somewhat pointless and would not translate to here, but one observation would. I shall attempt to do so. When in the presence of a particular friend of mine I almost always am in the presence of his girlfriend as well. She is a fabulous female and, in general, has brought a happiness to my friend I have never seen. I will always be thankful to her for that. She is, however, slightly younger than the rest of us, a fact I forget easily. There was a moment, though, that has prompted me to ponder her youthful outlook on life.

She has a tendency to speak her mind very quickly and very forcefully. If she feels someone is offensive or issuing unwarranted cruelty she is the first to speak up—defend those unable to defend themselves. I admire that about her. I remember a time when I spoke up quickly, almost instantaneously upon being riled. At times as I watch her proclaim her beliefs I wonder what happened. Where did my youthful enthusiasm go? Where did all that fire, the passion that had me fooled into believing I could change the world run off too? When did I stop defending my friends from other people and even from themselves? When did I start letting people use me, trick me into believing that I was nothing special? I thought I could take on the world at eighteen. I was going to play in the Boston Symphony and write movie music and win a literary award. I was going to do it all.

At twenty-two I’ve discovered I have to fight with myself to write, or play or pursue anything. When my friends are insulted I shake my head and think “that’s life”. It takes a sermon on the mound to inspire me to any great heights of anger, happiness, or excitement. I wouldn’t say I’m frigid, more, burnt out.

But here my thinking continues, because sometimes you can’t defend your friends or save the world. Sometimes the world is filled with colors of grey instead of black and white. There have been multiple times when I couldn’t find a right answer. Sometimes, even though I love someone completely, I cannot defend him or her. Sometimes my friends mess up and no matter how much I love them or know they didn’t mean too, I can’t fight their battles for them. The only option is to stay silent because there is no defense.

I suppose what it boils down too is this: I have the passion and the impetuousness I always did but patience has proven a greater ally than any the older I get. The world doesn’t change over night and no matter how furiously I practice or type or live I am not going to change it. But I can change my part. I can accept the people around me completely for who they are. I can be there for them when they need it. I can listen and sympathize and pretend to sympathize when necessary. I can just keep giving and hope that, for those people who have never had unconditional love, they will learn that it exists, in friendship, in family, and in love.

I think that at this point I would classify as a cynical optimist. An oxymoron perhaps, but a true one none-the-less. I have seen enough, lived enough, to know happy endings don’t come easy and sometimes not at all. But no matter how bad, things work out in the end. Sometimes you have to push them a little bit, sometimes you have to chase them but eventually when it is all said and done I reach a point when I can look back and smile. I can take a breath, relax and feel good that I have learned something.

I don’t know what is the correct path, passionate youth or restrained old-age but I know I work well somewhere in the middle. My passion is still alive, I simply hold it closer to my heart than I used too. I’ve learned that not everyone sees the world the way I do and that’s okay. I know that my life isn’t always going to work out the way I might like, but I can do my damnedest to ensure my friends’ lives do. It won’t change the world but it might make someone smile and that’s a start. That is definitely a start.