nothing short of unspectacularPosted: May 29, 2009
Apparently, I hadn’t received the memo that yesterday was supposed to be nothing short of spectacular.
I spent most of it defeating a nagging, persistent headache that started the night before through sleep, foods that are horrible for my body, and a two hour long examination that was supposed to be the catalyst for an overwhelming sense of catharsis. It didn’t really. It just felt like more of the same. I walked out of a heavily air conditioned bus at ten twentysomething this morning, the sun burned my eyes that had grown accustomed to flourescents and the air was twenty degrees below one hundred Fahrenheit. The sky reminded me of the walls of the room of a very old friend. It was framed by clouds whose edges were unmistakably sharp; there was no ambiguity between the blue light and the white cloud, though both were united by sunlight that peeked through the atmosphere. “It’s like God got the memo that today was supposed to be a great day today,” a close friend tells me as we waited in the grass for something to come our way. I couldn’t help but agree, and the universe couldn’t wait to refute it.
I had always thought there was some merit in Murphy’s Law, even when everything seems to go right. “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” as it goes, though I often interpret it to mean, “Whatever is planned to go right is doomed to fail.” The reason for this bastardization is simple, if one wants things to go the right way, they usually don’t. It happens with me, most of the time. When there’s an uneasy silence, usually in the middle of some conversation, or if I really have nothing to say, my mind tends to wander. For those few moments, I mull over random ideas that struck me at inopportune times only for them to return hours or days later. As I meandered through the hours of ten in the morning to just about ten at night, wandering between the pools of other lives and other nonsensities, the prevalent thought brewing in that glob of flesh I call a brain was the fact that my actions weren’t those that I was supposed to be doing. There were plans behind the hours that were to pass, certain things were supposed to happen because they’re always what happens, but they didn’t. Let me be slightly less vague. An interesting thing happens in the latter weeks of May, people, no, young’ns, are released from their self-described prison for a three month sabbatical; oftentimes it will be the Last Day they will see many of their cohorts until the coming month of August. Hence, they make plans, some celebration of the start of a decidedly deserved break, and they live up the last remaining hours within the confines of their self-described hellhole, where spoken “I’ll miss you”s and “I’ll see you”s are said with varying degrees of substance behind them. After those last remaining hours, those young’ns had already decided that they will go and do something “fun”, see a movie, go bowling, and other passtimes that don’t involve keyboards or controllers days or weeks before. Most, or, at least half the time, things don’t go according to those plans. Here’s a convoluted, possible reason why.
Entropy could be considered one of the universe’s ways to try and correct itself. It seems the universe thrives on order through disorder; things happen randomly for a reason. Entropy, if one hasn’t taken a preliminary course in Chemistry, is most simply defined as the measure of disorder within a system. Therefore, whatever machinations are behind this world we live in (aside from those faceless corporations or anything ephemeral like that) sense when there’s something that’s supposed to go right and does the best it can to fuck it all up. See, from my experiences, disorder is order when it comes to life; I’ve noticed that constant micromanaging and planning has a higher chance for failure only because through the aforementioned planning, one fails to see what’s in plain sight. More specifically, what’s changing right now and isn’t going according to plan. It’s simple, really.
Things don’t go according to plan because there isn’t supposed to be a plan.
In my distorted viewpoint on life, “planning” contradicts “free will”. The fundamental part of the human experience is to express our free will, to make choices that will affect every aspect of life in one way or another. Hence, if everything is already been chosen for you, wouldn’t that detract from one of the most basic of aspects of life itself? A revision of Murphy’s law could be “Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong because you made it so.” Your choices affect what goes “wrong” and what goes “right”, though I’m sure many an authority figure has driven that into your mind before. But take this into consideration; what if one’s plans going wrong from factors that are out of their hands is a way for the universe to remind you that, in fact, you should choose rather than follow a preset plan? Maybe the universe is just trying to force you to make that one decision, between right and wrong, in a situation where there is no room for planning, no room for predisposition. A spontaneous decision, if you will, the kind that drives the world.
See, the sick joke behind it all is that you won’t know what you’re doing “right” until after you make that decision.
The even sicker joke behind it all is that all of this bullshit that has been spewed for your eyes only applies more or less seventy five percent of the time. Things could go right for once, everything could go according to plan, but the only way to know is to choose a path of planning or a path of spontaneity. See, the variable definition of what’s wrong, more specifically described in an adaptation of another adage from “One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” to “A wrong is a right from a different perspective,” makes it hard to really analyze or discuss the subject without sounding bunk.