There’s no single answer that will solve all our future problems. There’s no magic bullet. Instead there are thousands of answers—at least. You can be one of them if you choose to be.
Octavia E. Butler, A Few Rules for Predicting the Future: An Essay
I’ve long espoused that in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Ferris is a gender swapped Manic Pixie Dream Girl. MPDGs are never the main characters. The main character is the one who learns something, who grows. Cameron is the main character in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. He just isn’t the most interesting character.
I want to be the protagonist in my own life, not the most interesting person, but the one who grows. Somehow from the wreckage of my poor heart I was going to salvage a silver lining. I was going to turn this around and convince everyone, even myself, that this was all for the best.
We are the captains of our own destinies. It’s hard for people who haven’t helped me with my homework to understand how bad I was at studenting. I’m bright and observant. I have a good memory and I’ve been known to turn a phrase artfully on occasion. It seems like all that would make for a good student. I did perform well in school for a bit. By fourth grade, it became a problem that I have the organizational instincts of a tornado, the attention span of coked up tsetse fly, and I really couldn’t grasp the basic concept of studying.
Legit, the best I could figure was that studying was reading the same thing I’d just read (and zoning out for the same boring chunks and then some because, with repetition, even the interesting parts would become boring so that the longer I studied, the less I learned). Yet, with the right fire beneath me (believing that a college degree was my key to getting a divorce), and Google at my fingertips (yes, I googled “how to study” while crying, many times), I was able to get an associate degree and transfer to a fancy university. At the time of the breakup I was very nearly done with my bachelor degree, despite feeling mentally insufficient next to my entire cohort. My takeaway has been that with grit and determination I can do anything I need to do.
Well, not anything. I think it’s more like I am my own genie. The good news is that I can grant more than three wishes for myself over a lifetime, though probably not in rapid succession. Like three wishes are probably all that I can work on at once. Also, for most of us, the three rules from Disney’s Aladdin apply-
- I can’t kill anybody.
- I can’t make anybody fall in love with anybody else.
- I can’t bring people back from the dead.
Goodness knows I have wished for the second two on more than one occasion. I reckon, I can do anything I want, as long as it’s not one of those three things, or otherwise magic. If it’s possible to get there from here, I can do that. I just need access to the instruction manual. That doesn’t mean that I can escape the consequences, though. Like, I can definitely rob a bank, but I doubt I can get away with it. That’s too many wishes at once, and I don’t have the necessary skill set to do that without using wishes.
In the nearly five years That Man and I were a thing, I fell as hard into love as I ever have. I really was ready to move mountains for him. To be clear, I know I keep saying I can move mountains. I don’t have a wand that I wave, and the mountain goes poof from here to there. What I’m saying is I know how to roll up my sleeves and scoop a shovel full, or even just a handful, moving one little bit of earth at a time. I am saying that I can work until my muscles ache and the fingerprints are sanded from my hands, putting one foot in front of the other until the work is done. This is the kind of friend I am, and the kind of partner I could have been.
I thought I could do anything for love, but I can’t make him love me. No matter how hard I wished. No matter how hard I worked. I showed him more of myself than I’ve ever shown anyone. He didn’t want me, and there’s absolutely nothing I can do about that.
So I shifted focus to what I could control, which in a weird plot twist, was actually school. I’m not a natural academic, but through hard work and determination, I became a good enough student. I’d been trying to get my act together so I could marry that fool, but I had unintentionally begun to sort out the things I’d need to survive his leaving me.
Writing aspirations and grad school were less on my mind, replaced by paths to paying the bills, getting ahead, building our empire. I’d started focusing more on life after graduation. I was willing to have a baby for this man because it was important to him. I wanted him to have all of his wishes come true. Well, that didn’t pan out.
So, what were my fondest wishes? What do I need out of this life? More than anything, I’d wanted to love and be loved, but for almost as long, I have wanted to be a writer. My senior year, I changed my academic focus to support that. I enrolled in classes focusing on literature and film (storytelling) within my ethnic studies minor. My last semester on campus, I enrolled in my first creative writing class, determined to learn how to write short stories.
I mean, I also enrolled in Syntax, the last requirement for my linguistics major, and Identity & Language, a class that intersects my major with my minor. And lastly, I was very excited to participate in UC Berkeley’s Teach in Prison program, tutoring at San Quentin. I’ve found the best balm for an aching soul is to contribute to the greater good. I needed that.
I think Portugal scratched my Peace Corps itch. Living abroad was a bucket list item, and since the Work Bestie was less than enthusiastic when I tried to convince him to join the Peace Corps with me, I found another way to satisfy that. Still, I love to travel. I was able to finish my bachelor degree studying in Mexico City (like I’d originally intended to) the summer of 2023.
Maybe someday I’ll win the Amy Lowell Travelling Scholarship. There’s a friend in the Philippines I am determined to visit. I still like the idea of walking El Camino de Santiago in Spain. My big lottery fantasy includes getting an MFA from NYU while being literary in Paris (or, far more affordably, maybe I can find my inner playwright and get an MFA from USC, instead). I checked the big one off my list living abroad, but I still have some daydreams left on the globe.
Another one of my lottery fantasies is spending most of a year on a world cruise. That’s less about travel though and more about the idea of spending nine months without laundry, or meal planning, or dishes. No chores. No errands. In this fantasy, I could totally write the great American novel, and when I need a break from hunching over my laptop the walk around the block would be ocean views and brand new cities.
There are writers who hole up in cabins or hotel rooms to get away from all of their distractions. If I won the lottery I could do that, but in train cars and cruise ship cabins instead. Based on how rarely I buy lottery tickets, none of the expensive fantasies are likely to come true,. That’s not the point. The point is that I still have dreams and wishes that aren’t about That Man.
I will miss what was and what almost was. It felt like we were really great together. I’ll find new things to look forward to, though. I can do almost anything. I was really hoping that guy was going to be a keeper, but maybe it’s time this genie learned to wish herself free. Sometimes being okay in the end isn’t about changing the ending so much as changing what I can be okay with. It still hurts, but I got this.
Before That Man showed up buzzing around, distracting me, I’d wanted to get my degree before I started dating again. I mean, at least my associates for sure, but ideally my bachelors too. Then I went and made an exception for someone special. After the breakup, I was determined, no more exceptions. I had work and school and family to focus on. Romance could wait until after I had my life in order on my terms. By no means was I okay yet, but I had the will, and even some plans, to come out of this breakup better than ever.
Maybe I’ll sleep real late
Maybe I’ll lose some weight
Maybe I’ll clear my junk
Maybe I’ll just get drunk on apple wine
Me, I’ll be just
Fine and dandy
Lord it’s like a hard candy Christmas
I’m barely getting through tomorrow
But still I won’t let
Sorrow bring me way down
Dolly Parton
Hard Candy Christmas
Crystal, Clearly 
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