A long long time ago in a park in a Bristol I was accused of being naive. My accuser was a man I had fallen in love with and who in various subtle and unsubtle ways tried to disentangle himself from me; one particular tactic being character assassination. According to him ‘everybody’s naive when they’re young.’ But, six years later and after a slew of chastening and wonderful life experiences I wonder if Im still guilty of the same crime. This week things have not worked out as I would have liked and I didn’t get the Hollywood ending that I expected. But to what extent did I expect it? The rational and it must be said negative side of me didn’t expect it, but the quixotic side has an imagination that runs away with itself and created images of shattered glass ceilings and Nicholas Kirkwoods. The quixotic side was disappointed and as a result Im trying to regroup-again.
Sometimes it takes me a long time to process things and I need to keep them in a few days before I can actually make sense of them. One of the ways I do this is by writing about them. Through the trees of words I get to see the wood you might say. This time I wasn’t necessarily being naive. I think I was just tired and I wanted a solution to the problem. The fact that the solution came wrapped in a big pretty gift box made it all the more appealing and possibly it was too easy an option. The easiest options are not always the best to take. Just as when you date the boy who fancies you just because he does and you convince yourself that it could actually work and ignore the nagging stirrings inside. It’s the same principle. It’s doomed to failure, if not immediately then at least in the long term. So, just like I should have ignored my Bristolian friend, now I’m going to ignore myself. I wasn’t being naive. My brain hasn’t become so Hollywoodised that I thought the happy ending would be handed to me on a plate.I just wanted a solution and for something to work and the two are entirely different.
