Not many people when given the opportunity would refuse of their own free will to date their high school crush. For me, that was Magda Scoles. And considering her and I were quite friendly towards each other and ran in the same social circles, and hung out at times after school, you would think that we would have had developed a romance or a little something something. But I never made a move on her, despite looking at her longingly and even day dreaming of her on far too many forgetful nights instead of doing homework. Granted I was a high school drop out, so perhaps it is to her benefit that I never showed even a single romantic interest, but still, in retrospect, only a fool would ignore such an amazing woman. These days she is a big name in her field and has the kind of job I thought I would have had for I skipped school to get a head start in that very field. But wouldn’t you know it, school, especially professional associations developed through rigorous learning and socializing are what is required to achieve success in almost any profession. Even street beggars know the ins and outs of whom has control of what pocket of change the city yields in what area and on what dates of the year. You didn’t know in Toronto when there is a Blue Jays game Canadians are far more pleasant to the wretched homeless than on other occasions? Or did you believe us cannucks are always friendly and neighbourly and thus we conquered this simple problem of any society? Seeing as we are the world peacekeepers, we must have cleaned house before bringing our Mr. Clean to your place, right? Wrong, we not only did not clean house, but in fact, we do not even know how to ask a woman as stellar as Magda out on a date. At least I did not know how, and I think in large part, now I will proceed to gloat how I am hollier than thou and I simply was above that childish like romancing between people.
In retrospect everything can seem easy. Looking back on my long nights that I spent alone reading Jurassic Park, it seems laying on my bed starring at the ceiling was an endless hobby of mine. And yet these days it is just as fun but not as easy. Now I have worries of a life time led the wrong way in the wrong direction with the wrong people and the wrong choices made. Back then as a teenager, my ceiling was Magda’s swimming pool and I was inverted flying above it watching her in her bikini. Or so I laughingly imagined. Though not too visibly. I never once saw her or almost any other woman in a bikini, for I spent most of my life making up for lost class time and trying to desperately catch up to those whom did things the proper way. All my friends by now became highly successful people with families like most Canadians and being a high school drop out I clearly did not. So I live in the past many days, unlike Magda herself or any of them. And obviously if I had to do things over like any man with a life full of regrets I would have studied way more. But that is not what life is and in fact I am thankful Magda soared away to other greener pastures and never looked back. If she was with me where I am now, no matter how much we loved each other, I would feel I ruined her life. If she had to watch me looking for a job without qualifications for all these years, while she worked and supported me, I’d have felt guilty and as if I was depriving her of the life that I bet she is enjoying way more with a way better man. I chose to drop out of high school. There was nobody forcing my hand, there was no abuse in my family home, and there was no drugs, alcohol, rock and roll, nor cigarettes involved. There were no bad kids I hung around and there was no mafia, crime, or anything of the sort. I simply wanted to work in the industry before I finished high school and I was eager, excited, and thought studying biology, physics, and chemistry and even mathematics lead nowhere. I thought I would be a big man in my field, so why study the chemical composition of something as dumb as Aluminum? Who needs to know the periodic table of elements? What use is it knowing about imaginary numbers? I still do not understand their purpose despite encyclopedias explaining them, despite teachers teaching their square roots, and despite seeing countless adults chit chatting happily about them. These numbers are as useless to me as the imaginary reality where I was not a high school drop out, and yet in the moments now when I am supposed to be reading The Lost World, I am stuck in that lost world wondering why I made these choices, and was there not another way? Could I not have jumped to the employment line later and finished high school anyway?
But dating Magda I could have done no matter what, and in fact, if I was so defensive of her as to not have dated her, after all, what is love other than preventing someone from being at a cliff, and it is where I am at, a cliff of homelessness, I could have thought perhaps my jump to work idea may back fire and still planned to date her but dump her if I left high school. And yet this simple option did not occur to me. I thought it was always an all or nothing affair. I thought if I dated her we’d end up together for life. Or if I didn’t date her it could never be an attempt with her. It is as if I knew being with her was a family kind of thing, thus robbing myself of every other possible opportunity. In fact, I did not even dare to ask Magda for her address, phone number or to visit the local mall because I figured, since I loved her so much, I would inevitably make a move on her and if it back fired, I possibly would be heart broken forever. Not because she may have been mean, she was not even a tiny bit uncouth, but because I would have felt like a failure for not knowing how to do the right thing at the right time. If she got mad because I didn’t hold a car door open, if I got mad because she didn’t, you know, dumb stuff that we all worry about when we are young and in search of perfection? What if we broke up because I chose the wrong song during a dance? Simple dumb things like that I always worried about and thus I figured, best course of action is to simply not even try to be friends. So I never called her after school, never asked for her help in math class, never once spoke about my hobbies when she was present and I never made even a slight romantic gesture her way. After all, her future to her was as important as mine was to me. And so Magda married someone overseas, got a dream job and is living the good life. Decades later I still have not made a move on anyone in particular and am still spinning in circles wondering why I chose to live my life my way instead of the way everyone said I should. And everyone living their way is far more successful than I ever was and has all the moments I always dreamed of having. Clearly I did many wrong turns on this walkabout tour of the forest of life. And we can not walk backwards without wasting even more time that we all need to get through the forest. So I have to accept the trees I sat around, the leafs I counted, the skips and hops I made, the giggles I shared alone, the birds I stared to look at, the trees I ran circles around and hugged for hours, I have to accept that the rest of you walked through the whole forest and are playing together at the lake while I am still at the very beginning wondering what that sound is somewhere about. And it is a scary sound for I have never heard it before. It is almost like laughter, but scary. And I know it’s not any of you as you all ventured so far from where I am at that I can’t possibly even hear the laughter of your families, let alone your own. Besides none of you would ever make this sound. I just hope it is not a snake or something poisonous as I have had enough trouble figuring out how to walk the path after thinking that tree looked like a giant tower and trying to scale it for hours and hours. Forests are funny places when you’re bored and imaginative. But to you all they seemed boring so you all ventured through them. I know the lake up ahead is beautiful and Magda is there and so is the gang, and so are the circus, the orchestra, and the balloons and animal show, but maybe I do not like crowds, or clowns, or whatever that thing in the water is.
But back then in high school Magda dated a few people, some were even my friends. And I remember vividly not feeling angry about it. I was not jealous. In fact, I was happier seeing her dating others than knowing she was not with anyone and thus available. Mostly because I knew I would never make a move to ask her out, and mostly because when you love someone seeing them happy, no matter what the reason, is one of the greatest experiences imaginable. Once I remember we all sat playing cards during lunch hour and Magda and her boyfriend were sitting just chatting, neither was playing with us. And although the game was fun, I still remember how happy they both were and I thought, there’s one couple I know will have a great life no matter what happens. All based on their two smiles. And no matter what I thought at the time, I was glad, in a round about way, that it wasn’t me. I had never had a girlfriend, I had no car, I had nothing really to entertain her with, and he even had a job while I did not, so I had no money to take her places. With me she would have sat in a backyard wondering what life had to offer beyond the two of us. With him she could go exploring our city and everywhere else. He could take her to the movies, to dancing, to the mall, or not. They could sit in a backyard, or not. But with me, there was nothing but me. Me, me, me. Always me. And that didn’t please me. That was kind of frightening. All I ever did was read and study, work and think, create and paint, play and laugh. But he did all that and then some. Plus as a cool guy in a band, I really couldn’t compete with all of that, and so it became obvious why she dated him. It wasn’t because of any of those differences. It was because he had the confidence to go up to her and ask her out. Plain and simple. Before he popped into our lives, she spent some time with me and I had much fun teaching her sports and some silly things. During these moments she was having fun as was I. So clearly we also had good chemistry. However, I kept it friendly and never ventured beyond simple human respect even when she fell into my arms half bent like a dancer when she tripped over her own feet as we were practicing some moves on some random street. These moments some might say are romantic, but to me, they are merely two people having a friendly kind of fun. If I was like him, I would have perhaps seen them differently. Then again, if I was like him we wouldn’t have been on a random street where another friend drove us with his car, but the two of us would have chosen a street and now I would know the name of it. Generally I just tagged along wherever my friends took me to. This mall, that theatre, this court, that sport, here in this parking lot, there in that burger joint, here at this game place, over there broadcasting our radio show. We went all together and somehow like a giant government democratic election process we all happily without arguing ended up at the same places. Sometimes one vehicle, sometimes many. I still can not recall how we decided to go to this movie or that show or that park at night. Why or how and who was the leader, nobody was certain. And our circle was full of all kinds of people, star athletes, Asians, and tall amazonian women. We weren’t picky people nor choosy. But we were righteous and friendly, a simple criteria. And despite that I still did not chose Magda over my books.
Luckily for me my choices turned out really well profit wise. I landed a dream job better than anyone from high school and made a ton of money. I studied everything I ever wanted to as a child, from day trading in the stock markets, to engineering and animation and even programming and music. Made a few short films, chatted with supermodels, met leaders of industries that I always admired such as far out there designers of really neat software, but never once did it occur to me at those moments to look up Magda - and I could have! When life was good, I never looked back at the people who were with me and thought of inviting them around me. I never thought to ask them if they needed anything from me. Figuring since I left high school, they must have all been upset at my disappearance, and so having burned those bridges I figured there was no sense in even pursuing love with Magda. That is how assumptive my brain was and still is and perhaps many people have these things tied together. If it didn’t work out when the time was perfect it can never be no matter what. If I do not have pieces X, Y, and Z, then having Y and Z is not useful. If I can’t have my exact desires and dreams then what use is a piece of the puzzle? If I can’t have Magda and a car in high school and the courage to ask her out, then why should I make the effort to have a relationship now that I am an unemployed loser with no credentials? Why would a woman love me now if Magda is married and elsewhere? One could argue love is what you make of it. Love is who is in your life. Or you could argue love is never lowering your standards to that of those who settled and regretted it and thus formed the high divorce rates and crime figures of many nations during their drinking binges and other illicit dealings with stress and misery. Perhaps I should be thankful I still have The Lost World to get from the library and continue where Jurassic Park left off. After all, no matter what mood I am in, or what the lighting is, or what music I choose, or even what my hair style is, and certainly whether I have a BMW or a Mini, it will have nothing to do with what’s between the covers of that tomb of love. So why did I not yet take out my library card and walk to the public library? For the same reason I did not reach out to Magda when I found her phone number in some place out there. What if it sucks and is poorly written? What if all the characters the author destroys and all the fun I loved from Jurassic Park is as tainted as a poorly written Hollywood sequel? You know, that movie about a train and then the follow up was about a train stop where the camera is motionless and the trains keep passing by and it is some kind of art project we were all forced to endure for two miserable hours with a really boring soundtrack? No thanks, trains exploding, metal bending, and people screaming was fun. Trains passing by, not so much. So perhaps I will keep waiting for The Lost World the way all my high school years I waited for Magda to call me without giving her my phone number. Hey look, that stucco on my ceiling, I never noticed that pattern last time I looked at it...
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