Mopping It Up

Dear Blog,

Today I got chastised by my dear friend Lizzy for the unnecessarily large amount of time between each blog post. I hate letting people down, especially my dear friend Lizzy, so here I am. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.

Blog, why must things be so terrible? They say hindsight is 20/20 and I was thinking earlier that it's not time periods or a series of events that create us or our world or our character; rather it's one choice, one event, that can change everything very quickly. That is to say, you're going along with your life in one way, and then you make one choice - something as simple as choosing between a KitKat bar and a Snickers, and then your life has the option of going one of two ways. Because at that time, the time when you are buying your candy, you had the possibility of two roads, one left and one right. Then making that decision veered you into the way of life that you chose, and away from the one you didn't. And of course you can't go back to make that left turn. If you could pinpoint that one choice or event, which I can, and if you had the ability, would you change it? I can't imagine changing anything, because I can't imagine things going differently, though I know it's a probably possibility. I wouldn't change a thing, right? Not entirely. I'd change some things, I just don't know if it would do any good. Because you have to wonder, Blog, if fate plays a little bit of a part in this too. If that one encounter is what changed you - and I know I'm placing a heavy importance on one, small thing, but I think that's what it comes down to - if you managed to alter that encounter, would you just end up the same anyway? Would another thing happen - something that you couldn't foresee - that would morph you into the being you were trying to avoid, because ultimately your life is supposed to go down one general direction? That would make changing that one thing worthless. If you could go back and only buy the Snickers...

Well, it doesn't matter, really. Nothing can be done for the past, and the future seems too daunting to tamper with, though of course I'm tampering with it even now. I suppose you can't help but tamper with it. And if it did all come down to one decision I made during a ballet class in 2nd grade, well, I made my decision, and that's that. Period, end of story, good-day-to-you-sir. I guess I can't worry over spilt milk. Just try to mop it up.


Pleasantly yours (I promise),

P. I. Staker