"I think we're more alive than everybody else," I gasped, through a fit of rampant laughter last Saturday night. My friend Brittany and I were in a McDonald's restaurant, trying to fill up our drinks, but collapsing with laughter instead. She was clutching the edge of the counter for support; I had pressed myself against the wall to keep from falling over. We could barely speak, we were laughing so hard. The reason for such wild hysterics? We'd considered ordering a "kwana-pawna" instead of a quarter pounder.
I'm sure all the restaurant workers were glancing at their watches, begging closing time to come sooner. The rest of our friends were probably sitting in silence at the table, burying their heads in their arms, ashamed to even know us.
As for Brittany and me -- Man, were we alive.
Our relationship has always been more ridiculous than anything. When we're together, we spend most of our time making up really dumb jokes and then convulsing with laughter. It's not that we're terrifically funny people; it's simply that when we're together, everything becomes funny. I can't explain exactly why.
Since we were kids, we've always made total asses of ourselves, from laughing like morons at completely inappropriate times (like during the middle of a really serious church event) to destroying other people's property (like playing "school" and filling an overhead projector with salt. Even though that was mostly you, Brittany).
We've never been anything short of completely and totally alive. This, of course, is oftentimes easier said than done. It's hard to feel things as much as you possibly can. When you laugh louder than anyone in the room you risk being seen as an obnoxious idiot. When your heart has broken, it's difficult to know if you'll ever fully recover.
But regardless, there's something liberating in feeling fully alive. Music sounds better. Writing is deeper. It becomes easier to communicate honestly with other people. You feel things. Whether it's pure pain or pure joy, you're experiencing something true, something real, and there's power in that.
For this reason, I'm grateful for crises, namely because I can look back later and say, "Oh. Good. I went through that." I'm grateful for life's occasional angst and confusion, because that terrible feeling often gives birth to real thought and even inspiration and discovery. It's life at its purest. And, of course, there are plenty of "kwana-pawnas" to enjoy along the way.
I'm sure all the restaurant workers were glancing at their watches, begging closing time to come sooner. The rest of our friends were probably sitting in silence at the table, burying their heads in their arms, ashamed to even know us.
As for Brittany and me -- Man, were we alive.
Our relationship has always been more ridiculous than anything. When we're together, we spend most of our time making up really dumb jokes and then convulsing with laughter. It's not that we're terrifically funny people; it's simply that when we're together, everything becomes funny. I can't explain exactly why.
Since we were kids, we've always made total asses of ourselves, from laughing like morons at completely inappropriate times (like during the middle of a really serious church event) to destroying other people's property (like playing "school" and filling an overhead projector with salt. Even though that was mostly you, Brittany).
We've never been anything short of completely and totally alive. This, of course, is oftentimes easier said than done. It's hard to feel things as much as you possibly can. When you laugh louder than anyone in the room you risk being seen as an obnoxious idiot. When your heart has broken, it's difficult to know if you'll ever fully recover.
But regardless, there's something liberating in feeling fully alive. Music sounds better. Writing is deeper. It becomes easier to communicate honestly with other people. You feel things. Whether it's pure pain or pure joy, you're experiencing something true, something real, and there's power in that.
For this reason, I'm grateful for crises, namely because I can look back later and say, "Oh. Good. I went through that." I'm grateful for life's occasional angst and confusion, because that terrible feeling often gives birth to real thought and even inspiration and discovery. It's life at its purest. And, of course, there are plenty of "kwana-pawnas" to enjoy along the way.
"Try as much as possible to be wholly alive, with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell and when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough."
--William Saroyan
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