A couple of years ago, Steve Martin wrote a novel called An Object of Beauty that on one hand was an inside view of the art world, but on the other hand was about waiting for the other shoe to drop. About terror-filled anticipation of consequences. Or of the realities of how life works out, despite what the consequences should be. The novel’s end was the logical conclusion that the reader has feared all along (even if at some points, the protagonist has been oblivious, and worse, hopeful and optimistic of a different life).
The novel took my state of being and put it into plot and characters – the juxtaposition of wanting to feel hopeful and optimistic while at the same time knowing everything is going to fall apart.
I splurged on an expensive pair of shoes last year. Surely that was just one step leading me to bankruptcy next year. I made this small choice and that small choice and I failed to see the future. I failed to make the right decisions, to predict the outcome. I flailed and breathed and tried and I drowned anyway.
Every time I get on a plane, I’m hopeful and optimistic that it will land safely, yet assuredly know this will be the plane that crashes. Even as I tell myself that knowing is wrong.
But everything doesn’t always go wrong. Right?