Tomorrow

Tomorrow

"People scared of change but you'll find me deep in the cushion" - Soul Food II

Yesterday once more. The Carpenters, 1985. My first memory of this song was many moons ago when I watched Open Season, a goofy computer-animated movie with anthropomorphic animals centralizing around themes of leaving home and embracing the alienated outside. Like all good protagonists, Elliot and Boog struggle to comprehend their very contrasting mindsets - having grown up and exposed to two fundamentally opposing realities both prime characters view the essence of existence differently.

A two frog, two well situation. 

See I have always had an issue with this proverb because the frog had no say in his unfortunate birthplace, and consequently a constrained upbringing. An endless sky bottlenecked by fate, blurred visions of the great vastness. Is it then justified to fault the abandoned amphibian, for the world moved on without him. Is his myopic mentality a self-inflicting shackle when everything that was, is, and will be remains an unchanging false truth. 

Thankfully we are not green croakers, and the world is our oyster. Our freedom seemingly limitless, diverse birds chained to nothing but space above. And yet, it is precisely this overwhelming fear of the unknown, the great expanse of it all, that taunts us modern mammals, piercing our evolutionary shell with doubt and insecurities that we revert to primitive states in trepidation of change. As time marches on, humans trudge forward, failing to upkeep with its rhythmic movement. Introduce life, and death eradicates. The only constant in this world is its inconsistency. 

Nonetheless, we have to try.    

As a child, I always thought that war was not a word itself, but an acronym. World At Risk. It made sense then, when my concept of battle and bloodshed derived mainly from cinema. To bask in glory when the heroes finally defeat their villainy forces is arguably the most wholesome moment in the show, although training montages were always my favorite. But as age takes its toll I start to wonder the origin of war and realized that change is, without question, the determining factor of bloodied terrain, lives wounded and entire civilizations leveled.

Simply put, humans fear things we do not understand, and do not attempt to. Incomprehension invites paranoia, and destruction echoes near. Think of that insect you killed recently. It had no idea, in the grander scheme of things, that it was even there, for the human world is an unfathomable concept to these invertebrates. And yet, despite its unawareness and unknowing, you erased it from the face of reality because you did not know of its origins, its intentions, its motives.

But change, or rather the idea of opening up to change, should not be a scary endeavor. Speaking honestly, the shackle tethering our willingness to embrace these alterations may not root from uncertainty's fear, but rather stems from the very thought of leaving the stump you have rested your wearisome mind for all these years. For the notion of acclimatizing to the alienated terrains of change, to be vulnerable all over again is scarier than the estranged landscape itself.  

Change irks me but I do not understand why. Why I draw comfort seating on the same seat during lectures, or dread taking on new roles and responsibilities even if these appointments does me more good than harm. Psychology relates such behavior to that of control, and how individuals are unconsciously territorial. Like moth to flame, that particular chair gives you a sense of power and the freedom to play more aggressive/defensive without much risks when others "trespass" your claimed land. 

But I do not think I am that complicated, as snobbish as it sounds. I choose my choices based on emotions, with happiness triumphing my other neglected feelings. I simply do because I simply want to. There is no psychology tangled here, an ignorant thought for there is the ever lurking subconscious. I think specific genres of change irritates me because I am genuinely contented with my current self, and to impose these...messy, unwanted alterations is where I fail to grasp. Wanting to change and despising it is stupid, for you chose to change. But now it is forced down my throat and I, helpless and fatigued, have to swallow every last morsel. Every last drop. 

And to the cooks that conjured this compelled gluttony, it is unjust to expect anyone to acclimatize immediately, for navigating the obligatory banquet is both overwhelming and consuming to one's mental state. Nothing frustrates me more when the answer to one's lament is "No choice, you have to do it". "It is what it is". Or something along the twisted message. Like actually fuck you and fuck your half-assed justification. Change should mold us, not transform our very essence.  

Even so, even if the burden of change does welcome much sorrow, the clock chimes on. Cries from a newborn, tears at a funeral. I understand that change is inevitable but we can dictate how it is introduced, which is then to me a real shame. To demoralize when those are trying their hardest to adapt is a sin we have all committed, though I suppose it is a crime unavoidable. We expect without empathy, and demand without remorse. 

And as the human trudge continues onwards, I realise that there is really no past, nor is there a future. There is only the present. There is only the now, and everything that is, was. 

And would have been. 

- Molly