Story-book-endings

Looking back at my childhood—which seems much further away than it actually was—I remember how my dad always used to bring home Disney movies from the store below his work; classics like Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Snow White and of course the Lion King, most of which we still have in the cabinet downstairs. And I remember how as a kid, every year for Halloween I wanted to be a princess just like the ones in those movies and I wanted my happily-ever-after ending to include the perfect prince, in the perfect castle and the perfect pea-less mattress. I know it sounds cliché; the idea of every little girl wanting to be a princess ‘when they grow up,’ but it was what my little heart desired every time I sat 5 inches from the television with images of unicorns, princesses and princes, kings and queens, magic lamps and talking candles, filling my little head. Even into my teenage years I was excited to walk down the hall of my high school and accidently drop my books, only to kneel down to pick them up and knock heads with the boy helping me—the boy who would be my prince charming. It wasn’t until shortly after I realized that that was never going to happen that I began to appreciate the perks of what I call reality.

justReality definitely doesn’t hand us things by the snap of our fingers or the rubbing of a non-magical lamp. Much of the time we have to work for everything we want in life and most of the time it involves blood sweat and tears. There are those days we hope the wishes we made upon those shooting stars come true and the days we wish that we’d wake up in the midst of a fairytale. There are those days we curse under our breath at the things we hate about our lives and then there are the days we scream in excitement. All in all though with all that being said, I’ve come to realize that reality has its own epic story-book-ending.
one Sure, I would love to never stub my toe again in the kingdom of ‘Never-Getting-Injured-Far-Far-Away.” And I would love to be able to have my own fairy godmother that would dump a bucket of cow poop on the heads on my ‘evil sisters’ upon my request. But then I think about it and I see the perks of the reality that is my life. Stubbing my toe sure hurts a hell of a lot, but it’s the only time I can get away with hopping on one foot in the middle of my school without looking like a crazy goof. And sure, having a fairy god mother to teach my evil older sisters a lesson or two would be convenient, but then I wouldn’t be able to take advantage of the ‘little sister’ role (even at 21) and think up amazing pranks; like sticking raw eggs and onions in their purse. And if I couldn’t do that, what benefits of being the little sister would there be?
cityBelieve me when I say that looking into a crystal ball and seeing my future—like the contents of my exam; if I pass my road test; if I end up getting anywhere successful with my degree; yata-yata-yata—would be brilliant because then I would know what steps to take and what steps to avoid. But if life was as easy as a crystal ball, I wouldn’t be able to say to myself ‘damn girl, studying all week for that test really did pay off.’ Nor would I be able to get really excited when I unexpectedly pass my road test and take a deserving and glorious victory cruise. Or in the worst case scenario, have a cry fest and have my parents justifiably comfort me if I fail. And amazingly enough, not knowing if my degree is going to get me anywhere in life also doesn’t seem so terrible because it means that I get to have the days I regret, the days I realize I did the right thing and the days I realize that the 50 hour work week I have, with all its paperwork and tears, isn’t for me.
girlIn the land of happily-ever-after, instead of being stuck on transit or in traffic, I’d be able to ride in a crystal carriage throughout my kingdom with my two beautiful white horses leading the way—not to mention a handsome and prompt carriage driver. Even as great as that sounds, it means I would miss out on my very own and first low-budget-always-stalling-barely-gets-me-from-A-to-B shit box of a car. It would also mean that I couldn’t join the crowds of people bellowing about the insanely and impossibly high gas prices. Now what fun would that be?
realOf the things important to a my life and to a measure of my happiness, living in the Land of Far-Far-Away would be amazing considering I would get to pick my prince charming out of a book of the most handsome, witty, and intelligent bachelors of the kingdom. My love life would be set and my story-book-ending would be the ending every little girl dreams of when they grow up. But then I think about it and I realize that if I had that option, love would be way too easy. I wouldn’t be able to go through the handful of guys I’ll meet in my life who’ll end up breaking my heart, but in the end teaching me something new and valuable about myself. I wouldn’t be able to throw a drink in my guys face when I see him flirting with another girl at the local pub. Nor would I be able to have my prince run after me when things go down south because in the land of happily-ever-after, going south doesn’t exist. Furthermore, in the land of reality when my perfect guy finally comes along, I can happily and politely inquire (as my friend quotes) ‘Where the fuck have you been?’
lifeSo sure, reality isn’t story-book-picture-perfect and sure we can all do without the stubbed toes, blood, sweat and tears, but we’ve got to give reality credit. As the writers of Grey’s Anatomy say; reality is far more interesting than happily-ever-after.