My Own Mythology

This weekend on NPR (PRI) on This American Life there was the history of a father with a directionless rudder allowing him to become whatever the tides of society dictated for that decade. It got me thinking about my mom and my life. I realized on some level the narrator and I shared a lot of the same experiences, only hers were more violent and damaging in ways than mine. Where her father lived in Movies like Ice Storm my mom lived in ones like Gone With The Wind and Donna Reed.

As easy as it is to always cram Mom into molds and say things like above, the truth of the matter is I live in my own Mythology. I guess we all to do some extent. I believe that I am a writer of worth yet with nothing published to make this myth reality. I believe that I am cultured and refined because I love opera when in reality I still cling to the morass of images displayed on the proletariat driven television. The list goes on and on I just don't want to bring all my faults into the light.

I have always wanted to be more than I am and in the past the simple desire has been enough to sustain me. Now that I'm reaching for the more authentic in life I find myself discontent on the mere morsels that mythology has to offer. I'm starved for the sustenance of the here and the now. Maybe that's what college was supposed to teach me but I was too disconnected with my desperate attempt to hold onto the mythology that I never allowed myself to grow. Now that I'm reaching forward, looking forward, living forward I find it difficult to feel my footing under me, to trust in the unseen hand of fate and faith.

I'm trapped in the netherworld between myth and authenticity. I guess my only recourse is to keep my eyes towards the light as I try to leave the world of shadows and hope to find myself, for the first time, on solid ground living the life I've always dreamed.