I Was Smart at Thirteen

I recently came across an old high school publication that had two of my poems in it. I should clarify by saying that these "poems" read like a teen-ager's angst-filled diary, which was probably where I originally wrote it in. One of the poems was entitled, "Reflections and a Blueberry Cheesecake." In the poem I ask how much adventure and risk I am willing to add to my life, how much sweetness and flavouring I can bear to give up, vis a vis changing the recipe of the cheesecake I am trying to bake. WTF, right?

The funny, or not-so-funny thing, depending on your perspective, is that how I felt before, when I wrote that poem, is exactly like how I feel now, albeit in a form not as appetizing as a cheesecake, How much more am I willing to change, to give up, to start over, to sacrifice, etc. Suffice to say, if I am still asking the same questions, it remains that I do not know, and have never known, the answer. On the other hand, the questions take on a different depth when coupled with my current circumstance of trying to raise a family in an unfamiliar place. Things are not as light now, and the problems are no longer as innocent. I can remember a time (after I write the poem) when I was agonizing over school mid-terms, my vague and confusing love-life, and the fact that I lived with parents who did not want me to have a love-life.

These seem to pale in comparison to what I am going through now, because the consequences become greater and more over-reaching the older I get. Still, at that time, those issues weighed as heavily on my mind as my issues today. No one can carry a chip on their shoulder better than teen-agers, and I am not proud to say I was a heavy-weight in that category back then. Which surprised me all the more when I read the ending of the poem - it was lighthearted, optimistic, and utterly correct, based on more than twenty years worth of hindsight. If I am to break the cycle of always second-guessing, of seeing darkness where instead I should see a gap to fill with light, I guess I have to go back to those words written by thirteen year-old self:

"In the end (no matter the mixture and mistakes) the blueberry cheesecake is just a blueberry cheesecake whereas my life was something I could change."