Comments on: Baby I’m a lost cause http://www.shefallssoftly.com/2006/08/06/baby-im-a-lost-cause/ lost in wonderland Tue, 06 Jan 2009 07:27:37 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.0.2 by: Andy http://www.shefallssoftly.com/2006/08/06/baby-im-a-lost-cause/#comment-39 Sun, 06 Aug 2006 19:44:01 +0000 http://www.shefallssoftly.com/2006/08/06/baby-im-a-lost-cause/#comment-39 Every moment a cross-roads. Some seem, years later, like a major turning-point. And you regret turning left instead of right. Or, if not regret, you think, as you are here, "What if..." What if I had said, "Yes," to this or that invitation? What if I had gone to a different school? What if I hadn't studied as hard, or studied harder or taken this job or that one? What if we had met sooner or later or not at all. What if... if... if. No regrets, C. It is all grist for the pen. And if you ever have a child of your own... the instant he/she is born, that is the moment, the second, where you aren't allowed, in a sane internal universe, to go back past in your head-trip of wondering. Because to go back further would erase the child. And to murder in one's mind... well, that's still murder, eh? And when you realize that, you know that regret or even wondering is, frankly, useless anyways. Even without babies involved. Except as grist for the pen. Because if you can't go back and kill your son in your head, how is it any better, as you have articulated here, to go back and kill the "you" that has come forward to this place? What would I change? Nothing. Maybe some harsh words silenced instead of spoken to the one I love. Maybe I'd empty the dishwasher without being reminded a few more times. We are the sum of our parts; our beautiful, fucked up parts. I can't kill myself, or my real or imagined children, in whole or in any of those parts. Good post. Every moment a cross-roads. Some seem, years later, like a major turning-point. And you regret turning left instead of right. Or, if not regret, you think, as you are here, “What if…”

What if I had said, “Yes,” to this or that invitation? What if I had gone to a different school? What if I hadn’t studied as hard, or studied harder or taken this job or that one? What if we had met sooner or later or not at all. What if… if… if.

No regrets, C. It is all grist for the pen. And if you ever have a child of your own… the instant he/she is born, that is the moment, the second, where you aren’t allowed, in a sane internal universe, to go back past in your head-trip of wondering. Because to go back further would erase the child. And to murder in one’s mind… well, that’s still murder, eh?

And when you realize that, you know that regret or even wondering is, frankly, useless anyways. Even without babies involved. Except as grist for the pen. Because if you can’t go back and kill your son in your head, how is it any better, as you have articulated here, to go back and kill the “you” that has come forward to this place?

What would I change? Nothing. Maybe some harsh words silenced instead of spoken to the one I love. Maybe I’d empty the dishwasher without being reminded a few more times.

We are the sum of our parts; our beautiful, fucked up parts. I can’t kill myself, or my real or imagined children, in whole or in any of those parts.

Good post.

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