Take me out tonight.


There was a time not long passed where I was braver. I used to say such incredibly forward, daring things. They were not premeditated, but nonetheless intentional.

Sometimes they were whispers on a couch at 3am.

Sometimes they were absolute truths of the universe revealed over a cup of coffee (back when I tried to drink it black).

Sometimes they were dreams and aspirations that included me and only me, and that was sufficient cause.

There was a time when my movements were not so calculated. I did not worry so much about the future. It was not a delinquent disregard for the future, but more or less an intuitive faith that everything would be just fine. And it was.

Now my coffee is sweetened and sedated, and so are my words. I have too often bowed to the pressures of career and relationships. I have compromised, over and over.

I answer work emails to parents with emoticons, for God’s sake. Smiley faces to ease the burden of the truth that I feel guilty for saying.

“Your daughter/son has not turned in a single essay this semester. :)”

Ok, not exactly, but you get the point. It is weak, weak behavior, and I am ashamed and sad that I have arrived at this bleak point.

I used to get ashtray ugly when I was angry. I threw things. My face got red and I cried and I didn’t care who saw. I rammed shopping carts into people. (Oh come on, that was ONE time.)

And it’s not society’s fault for conditioning me, a lady of sorts, to accept being undermined and dismissed. Well, it is. But it’s my fault for falling prey. Come on, Heather, really? REALLY?!

My New Year’s resolution: To bring back the fight. To not be so flexible. To rage, rage against the dying of the light.

2 thoughts on “Take me out tonight.”

  1. Are you kidding, Heather?!? I look at this change in you, in me, in others, over time as recognizing that we pick our battles–because not everything is WORTH the battle. Carter is. Jordan is. Family is. The kid who doesn’t turn in an essay is NOT. Because then you’d have to battle for every kid and you can’t do that. HIS mother needs to do that–but okay, if he doesn’t have a mother, then you can do that for him a little bit, but if you’re writing the mother… you get the idea. Why would you view yourself as “prey”? There’s no more amazing human than the one who chooses to pick up the banner of significance and march boldly through life with it and not allow herself to be distracted by those things of less significance. Encouraging others to join in through gentle, persuasive, at times compromising language–think Gandhi, King, Thoreau, your mom. Compromise has helped our nation through terrible times–and lack of compromise on the part of so many today is truly hurting us. Those terrible screaming talk shows are hurting us. Long live sweetened, flavored coffee, anonymous good deeds, and NURTURING the flickering light into something that is award-winning-Christmas-time bright.

  2. I get what you are saying! Totally have to pick the battles. I’m just tired of watering myself down because I don’t want to hear that I’m “crazy”. But there is something to be said for getting more bees with honey.

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