On fantasies.

If my supervisor is right, Disney and Nicholas Sparks have a lot to answer for.

I think my problem is that I expect so much from the world...perhaps things that don't even really exist. I've opened up to this guy a lot - my supervisor that is - about how I think things should be. He laughed at me, and maybe he was right to do so. I suppose the world and life and fun and love are not what they had been built up to be my whole life.

I never thought that I had actually picked up fantasies from movies and books, but reflecting on my expectations of what life could be like...should be like, depending on my mood...I know that these things are at least much more common in fairy tales.

Regardless, letting go of the expectation that someday I might have something great of my own feels like giving up, and this always seems less desirable than holding on to the hope that maybe someday things will be different.

By all accounts, right now things aren't really so bad. Yes, my job is incredibly stressful and there are certain people in my life that could be considered to owe me a little more support. But I really do have all I need. My problem is that I want so much. I can't even rebuke myself for it, because all the things I want are good.

I wonder what God would say to this. I pray but I never feel closer to an answer. But I get all the answers I like from songs like "1,2,3,4" and "Kiss Me" which is of course sappy, ridiculous, and probably too embarrassing to mention unless it were very true - which it is.

I keep thinking that all I need is a little time to recover or regroup, mature a little more, learn some lessons, and then I can try again and hope things will be different. But because of the pattern I always end up in, I have to wonder if maybe I'm crazy. The only thing that remains consistent is me, and whenever there is a situation like that it calls for some reflections.

Like this one.

If I'm not crazy, then perhaps I'm trying to live in a fantasy world that doesn't exist. And if so, if I ever want to be happy I need to stop.

But I just don't want to. So I guess I'll just have to continue getting browbeat by life until I do.

There was a dream that I dreamed, a dream for dreams to be real.

The world has moved on.

"The world has moved on. Bad times are on horseback."

I am re-reading the Dark Tower, Stephen King's magnum opus of an adventure about Roland Deschain, gunslinger, last of his kind in a world that is dying, and about his last ditch attempt to save it and all of existence itself from eternal darkness.

Epic.

There is a saying that reappears in every book (there are seven) and multiple times in every book. It's "The world has moved on." The first time I read the book, years ago, I never really understood the phrase. I thought I did...I took it to mean "times have changed." But that's not it at all. I get it now. I get it now because I'm a little older and I've lived it.

"We say the world has moved on; maybe we really mean that it has begun to dry up."

When I think back to the time when college was new, and I had all the time in the world?

The world has moved on, gunslinger.

When I think about the times I always had someone else to consider if things didn't work out?

The world has moved on, gunslinger.

When I think back to when I didn't need to worry about whether I was doing things right?

The world has moved on, gunslinger.

When I think back to the times I could choose among almost any club, school, community, etc. activity as a place to have fun and meet new people?

The world has moved on since then.

I get it. What an interesting phrase - it doesn't mean a change in time, because time is really only a figment of our imagination...it means an entire change in the world. My world has utterly changed, and I'm still adjusting. I keep wanting things to be how they once were, but everything around me reminds me it's different now.

In the interest of not sounding so depressed to the point of self-absorption, I know I have other things to look forward to. But true to my fashion, I'm not as interested in them as I am to the things that I've "passed by." I need not repeat them. After all, I understand as well as anyone else reading this blog how I must sound. Still, allow me this guilty pleasure.

I guess I am just frustrated that at my sixth year of leaving home, other than a degree under my belt and another on the way, and a little maturity, I'm really no better off than I was before. I think at one point I actually thought I would be married by now. What a riot that is to think. The world has moved on.

Something positive (because I really am trying, I promise): I think I would be very happy, even if I was moving on from this community alone, if I got a job where I intern at. And moved to this nice little town with a Catholic church the size of a cathedral. I'd cry...that would be lovely. We'll see...we'll see exactly how much the world has moved on.

There was a dream that I dream, a dream for a world that has not yet moved on.

Something about people.

I really like people.

Really, I do. But I can't help feeling that much of the time people have let me down. What I mean is, as much as I reach out to people in friendship, and attempt to be someone reliable when things get rough, it is seldom that I get the same in return...and never for the reason I would hope for.

Living in a community of people who are both God-centered and compassionate, I can understand why people might feel like I am either lying, not paying attention, or am expecting too much. But it's a lot different than that.

There are four reasons why people care about another person:

1. They want something out of the other person.
2. They feel like they should.
3. It's their job.
4. They want to.

In my experience, a lot of what's going on is numbers two and three in the list. And while some help is better than none at all, I need someone who cares about me because they want to. Not because they feel morally obligated to or because that's just what they do as a missionary or minister.

Let me back up before I get too ahead of myself. I kinda got the short end of the stick when it comes to moral support. My Dad is about as sensitive as a rock and only ever calls to make sure I'm doing things right. My sister is too busy to care much about my life. My little brother despises me. My Mom is dead. My relatives live too far away. All of the "best friends" I had in high school seem to give not much of a shit about me anymore, since my attempts at keeping in touch and hanging out once in a while are met with what I can only describe as apathy.

Around here, if you know where I live, you would think things might be a little different. And it is, somewhat. There are plenty of people around here whom I could vent my frustrations to, and spend time with. But, you must understand, I realize this is only a temporary thing. These people are around here now, but will be gone from my life before long. When I seek them now, they answer, if they have time. But before long, they'll be gone, and because they help me not because of number four on the list above but because of number two or three, I know that our friendship will become little more than a "We'll keep in touch" sort of arrangement. No guarantees on that, even.

It seems when I am most happy in life, I have someone whom I strongly believe cares about me because they want to. Yet, time after time, I'm proven wrong. They forget about me. Or I find out they never really meant a lot of the nice things they said about me, or about our friendship. It's a disappointment I've come to count on.

And yet, I'm held to blame. I expect too much from people, they say. I should rely more on God, they say. Easier said than done. Is it wrong of me to expect at least one of the couple dozen people I invited to a lunch/dinner chat to invite me in return? Is it wrong of me to be upset when people forget about me? What about forgetting twice? If I was a ninja, I would expect to be forgotten, but this is ridiculous!

There was a dream that I dreamed, and that dream was that someday I would have someone who loved me as much as I loved them.