Those Silly, Simple Joys of Life

It seems like forever since I was able to sit down and have some quiet time in which to write. The few moments I considered in the past just didn't seem to present me with what I considered sufficient subject material, particularly given my pledge to stay positive in every other post I get through. For the longest time, I struggled with the belief that I couldn't come up with something worth writing about. That maybe my sense of optimism was misplaced, and that I might as well jump on the bandwagon of cynicism, given how much easier it is for one operating under such a framework to churn out seemingly endless amounts of text to perhaps an even larger body of dissatisfied people.

Well, salvation came (as it always seems to do) from the most unlikely of sources: a simple, white stain of paint on my jeans. To put a bit more context to my story, I should point out that today was one of the "set construction" days of my local theatrical production, which left me not exactly spotless after I had helped get primer onto several of our major set pieces. So as I began to type this evening, I found myself continually glancing down at my stained, dirty pants. Not exactly the most enlightening scenario, I agree. Yet this visual manifestation seemed to be trying to teach me something beyond just the obvious "take better care not to spill the paint next time, you idiot." After a few moments of reflection, it dawned on me that stains, like any other mark, can be just as much of a signifier of one's work as it is their particular failure.

Another analogy might be useful. In one of my favorite movies of all time, The Great Race, Tony Curtis' part of the Great Leslie, a masterful stuntman, driver, and womanizer, stands out with his particularly clean white clothes, which seem to dodge every potential mess they might come in contact with. Yet in the end, when he actually gets into the thick of the action in the classic pie fight scene, he emerges covered head to toe in pastry filling. Not only does it deserve a laugh or two, but it shows a level of personality that the normally aloof Leslie seemed to be lacking throughout the film. Now that he has fallen in love with the main girl and has something more to fight for than simple glory, he can't but help take a pie to the face.

As silly as it may seem, it is really these simple joys of coming out of a hard days work with a few stains to show for it that make life a bit brighter. If we never had to worry about the aches and pains of daily life, I'd feel more than a bit bored myself. I'm not asking that we all go out and become workaholics. Quite the opposite. I just feel that in the hustle and bustle of our busy lives, it'd be nice to take the time to look down at the scuffs on your shoes, the stains on your shirts, not as a measure of your cleanliness but as a reminder of the finite, limited, imperfect, yet wonderful world we live in. A world that, when you truly engage it, will have its shares of scratches and aches, but which subsequently is all the more exciting to truly live in.