My friend told me today at lunch that fiction is useless, that it serves no purpose. I, being a literature junkie, immediately shot into a slew of reasons of why he was wrong. The premise of his argument was built on the fact that since fiction was made up of fake stories you could never take away any real life lessons from them. This is obviously crazy.
To not learn about love from Romeo and Juliet? To not find solace in other's coming of age stories, be it Holden Caufield's or Charlie's. My life is practically based off these novels. The more I thought about it though, the more depressed I got. My life has literally been nothing more than a conglomeration of books, music, and tv for the past three years. Instead of creating my own experiences, I've been living vicariously through theirs'.
The more I thought about it the more I began to question life. What is the purpose of all this? What is moral? And why? My parents would say pleasing God. But where do I fall in that spectrum? On the low end, to say the least. My life so far has been nothing but sucking the experiences from what others have written or filmed.
While there is nothing wrong with being a geek like me, I do think there is something wrong with not living life. I mean, do you think JD Salinger spent his teenage years reading the work of others? Or did he spend time experiencing life to the fullest so he could go on to create his own work? I'm gonna say it's definitely the second. How do I plan to ever write about the human condition without ever experiencing it? I can't.
Now while I could definitely place blame for my lack of life in this dream-crushing soul-sucking town I live in, I feel at some point I have to take responsibility for myself and modify my behavior.
I avow from this day forward to stop being defined by literature but have my life be enhanced by that literature. One of the most important parts of English class reading is making personal connections to the material. So without further ado, here is my high school bucket list:
Item #1: Watch the sun rise from my roof. While this may seem ridiculous and hopelessly romantic it's something I've always wanted to do. I feel like the crisp air and quiet, broken only by the chirp of awaking birds, may be the most fulfilling experience I could ever ask for.
Item #2: Spend Halloween in a graveyard (with or without a Ouija board - to be determined). You can't live until you've experienced death; while I don't want any of my family or friends to die, I sure would enjoy spending the year's most haunted night in a cemetery with a few of them.
Item #3: Eat a meal with my best friends in a restaurant no one has ever heard of (and make it a regular thing to do so). I want my own Central Perk. Enough said.
Item #4 : Write something that changes a person's live. I don't care if it's essay, poem, short story, blog, just something that reaffirms that my dream of writing isn't futile.
Item #5: Sneak out. It is silly and juvenile, but the thrill of my parents not knowing where I am, or even knowing I'm gone sounds riveting.
Item #6: Finally learn to play the piano. It's been a life long struggle. I don't want to talk about it.
and last, but not least by any means:
Item #6: Convince the governor of Indiana to legalize same sex marriage. I don't know how, and I will probably need a lot of help, but love is love. I want to live somewhere where that that sentiment will not just be a doormat, but where it will be made the standard for all.
I'm sure I'll think of more, but as of now that's all. Wish me luck.
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