But that said, here's another truth: Perhaps the most important predictor of any relationship's continued success is the shared creation of a positive narrative. The balance of the positive must outweigh the negative. This factor alone can predict the dissolution or continued union of two individuals.
So here's what I think: Imagination helps. Romanticism. As depressives will tell you, part of being positive is suspension of disbelief. Similarly, comics will tell you the key to improv is to always say "yes"—to forge ahead by imagining the path into being. It's the key to a good interview, too, that zing of the sharp, imaginative follow-up. Richard Bach always noted that you can bring anything into your life by imagining it there, by brazenly and confidently proceeding as if it already were. And as anyone who's met my parents knows, you can drive just about anyone away by unimaginatively and endlessly rehashing small transgressions.
I think that's the key here. Disagreements will occur. Two people inevitably hurt each other. For all our similarities, we'll forever remain apart in experience. But a positive, forgiving outlook renders all of that unimportant.
Narrative, like anything, can become dangerous—delusory—when we believe in it so fervently that we're unwilling to see the truth beyond it. And that's always a question, whether we're just deluding ourselves, acting out a soap-bubble, ephemeral script to avoid putting ourselves out there again. As one said to another in When Harry Met Sally: "Tell me I'll never have to be out there again."
Love. Security. Delusion. Whatever the reasons behind it may be, the belief that there's a greater narrative and context for our actions can inspire us to be better to each other, to forgive more and dwell less and keep things in proper perspective.
That's as good a reason as any to believe that perhaps it's meant to be.
1. Sleep.
2. Music in the morning.
3. Movies for catharsis.
4. Reading-turned-naps.
5. Unstructured time.
It's like camp—too much for too long and you burn out.
1. Quit eating out every night.
2. Walk/bike ride daily.
3. Cut the coffee.
4. Sleep more.
I needn't be afraid of myself.
I know what I'm bringing to the table with this one.
I know old patterns won't mysteriously overtake me in the night.
And I know better than to think that my big mouth will ruin everything for me.
This one is of course worth watching my mouth for, and it's well worth guarding myself against old patterns for. This one's important. But this is supposed to be fun—I can't work myself into a frenzy of worry over every verbal faux pas, neh?
When I get done being sick this time, I'm going to go ahead and depress my nervous system with some quantity of alcohol so I can escape my own head for a while. Just as I needed the clarity caffeine brings, I'm also gonna need some-a-that fuzz.
It's as though someone told me, "Someday, this will all be yours..."
Come to think of it, someone did tell me that. But not today. And he was joking.
But yeah, it's about basic respect.
I've long known that it's crucial to embrace joy wherever it might be found—I picked up an intuitive understanding of that at some point. But I've long been insulated from what true sorrow there is in the world, and I think that's slowed my understanding of why the joys must be cherished. In my somewhat charmed existence, I've taken them for granted.
Heh. Pardon me while I get in touch with the reality so many before me have readily grasped.
• Others work at the bookstore because they lack long-term goals.
I think the two motivations start to overlap if you stay there long enough.
The drive to stay there is simultaneously due to and despite the fact that it's such drudgery.
Now I get it.
Sleeping away the lazy afternoon together dreaming about sleeping away the lazy afternoon together.
These things that don't even need to be talked about, lest we break the soap-bubble tension of their loveliness.
Jews, gangsters, ne'er-do-wells and Communists: family history, in short.
Intuition. Horoscopes and healthy superstition.
Bagels. Bacon. Brooklyn.
Funk basslines.
The return of personal ambition.
The restorative effects of alcohol.
The renunciation of smoke's pleasures.
Wool overcoats. Coffee. Rosé and shiraz. Yogurt and vitamins.
Chicago and the wide, wakening world.
Well, no.
This seems really ridiculously right.
I couldn't imagine the depth and complexity that would become so readily apparent. Intuition tilts everything in these unexpected and delightful ways.
But I'm writing down all the details, 'cause I don't want to forget. I need a way back in case we ever lose the thread of this new narrative.
As I've stated for the record at many points past, in many other situations:
This is real. Believe it.