"Be willing to surrender what you are for what you could become." -Author Unknown
There's an art to making the best of a bad situation. Banksy knows it.
Gladys knew it. I'm still getting there. I know it takes a series of calculated steps and pointed decisions to get there. Simply wishing doesn't make it so. Sunnyside up. The silver lining. The glass half full. All of these things- conjured up by the spirited people who forgo the negative in pursuit of more constructive endeavors. I don't fault them. I just don't always share their enthusiasm. To me they seem capricious- these shiny happy people. Although that's far from the sentiment I pick up from Gladys Knight and phantom guerrilla artist, Banksy. They are well aware of how unpleasant the subject matter at hand is. They just decided to put a spin on it- turn it sideways before setting it right side up for all to see. I can respect that. A new take. A different outlook. Something more beneficial or edifying than what is immediately presented. Look closer. I get it.
Plenty of self-examination is the precursor to that. I'm trying. Really, I am. For every bitter pill there's an elixir. For every disappointment, a new revelation. It's never as bad as it once seemed. Most people I know grew up in the same house since childhood. Not me. Starting from six years old to my late teens, I moved around neighboring towns almost every few years. At one point, I stayed with friends and lived out of jumbo plastic garbage bags. Now that it rests squarely on my shoulders- I'm settled. For how long- is a fear that tries to slip in with the draft in a floorboard, but I chase it away. And every now and then, when problems crowd my brain, I revisit all of those homes. I park across the street and recall whatever I was going through when I resided there, no matter how brief. I think about how unbearable it was at the time and realize that I made through that- so I can make it through this. The look back isn't harmful as long as it's followed by a look ahead.
It was naive of me to think I was the only one who did this. I truly believed I was until I read an article on Eminem in
Spin magazine. The interviewer followed him around to several places he had lived in Detroit as a youth. He spoke of doing this often when he was seeking perspective on where he presently was- whenever his hectic schedule allowed him to be in his hometown. I instantly recognized my own movements in his. The inherent need to be reminded that as shitty as it was back then- you made it through.
You. Made it.
Through. Tougher, stronger, no worse for wear and grateful. Reflection. It's a countermeasure that works as long as it's properly applied. If you start dwelling there or not wanting to move on to the next house or even head home, you've already fucked up. I don't drive around to those old haunts as much as I used to. I reserve those times for more pressing or melodramatic courses. These days, I take a page out of Banksy's book. See the beauty in the grit and discomfort of it all and show others what I'm made of; simply by showing it to myself. Some may call that inspiration. I call it middle ground.
