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It's been a while since there's been a rant from me. This is not so much a rant, as a bunch of observations, so bear with me. They start with last night:
Last night, Matthew decided he wanted to treat me to our favorite little Mexican restaurant. Not having a bunch of money, I was touched by the invitation and excited to have a nice dinner with my husband.
As soon as we sat down, though, a voice from the past reached my ears, saying my name, and I looked up in surprise to see an old friend of my uncle's, Chris, sitting across from us.
To give you a little background, I first met Chris about the same time I first met my uncle when I was a little girl. I have memories of him going back as far as I can remember, and even have some goofy pictures of him from when I was a kid, running around with Mom's camera.
So, he's like an uncle to me, and always has been, but as of late I've seen little of him. The last few years, he's disappeared a bit, and it's been sad to not have him there when I have so many awesome memories of him as a part of my family. So, when he called my name and invited me and Matt over to his and John's table (another old friend of my dad's who currently lives in Thailand, but was visiting back here for a bit), we did not hesitate.
The conversation quickly turned to Star Wars, and it did not matter that we were debating the merits of a fictional franchise. It did not matter that we differed on our opinions of puppet Yoda versus CGI Yoda. What mattered was the quality of the time spent over a good meal. It's something that so many people let fall to the wayside.
Since Matthew and I have been on closer schedules these past few months, we eat almost every meal together. There's something to be said about shared conversation over a meal. Instead of living in our own little bubbles, we can engage in one another's days while fueling our bodies. It's a novel concept that used to be a part of the American family, but has been lost in the advent of fast food and microwave meals. We eat on the run, at the computer, in front of the television. Sometimes, you just need to tune out the mess and engage in another human being's thought process, in a challenging situation rather than one that leaves you numb.
I'm not saying we should go after people who like to eat alone, or who, perhaps, live alone and can't afford to eat a meal out all the time. Rather, I'm addressing a mentality in our society that a meal is nothing more than fuel for our body. If that were so, we would not bother to prepare meals with such care, to care about spices and flavors. We'd all be drinking flavor-less shakes of protein powder all day every day. We'd cease to care about what we put into our bodies.
It can be argued that we are already at that point, with candies and chocolates replacing meals, with high-sodium, high-caffeine running our bodies and minds rather than leafy greens and protein-rich meat.
I offer a challenge to bring back family meals, if one is able, because I cannot measure how important it was for Matthew and I to share a meal with Chris and John last night. It was wonderful just to get out with my husband, but immediately I knew the night was about something more. As we spoke, bouncing ideas and thoughts off of one another, we were all enriched for it. We were all made better just for the simple act of sharing a meal together.
Family time is sacrificed so much these days in the name of money. "We have to pay the bills." Yes, bills are important, but so is family. Children grow up and leave home, so treasure the time you have together and have a sit-down once a week, just to catch up on each other's lives. Think of it as "multi-tasking," if you must. You can eat and learn more about what's going on in the life of your child. Make dinner for your wife or husband one night. Pick a night that is yours every week that you sit down together, dine, perhaps watch a movie.
It's not so much about the meal, it's about the quality time. It's about taking an hour or so just to talk, to unwind, to be together, to enjoy another's company. It's so precious, and I think we tend to miss that sometimes in our "I want it now" world.
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The screaming commenced just after 12:30 a.m. this morning, but I had absolutely no clue what was going on. At the beginning of the Mens Team Gymnastics, my husband went to bed, so I turned off the sound on the television so I could keep watching as he slept.
I knew that China was the favorite coming in, and that the United States was trying to work an upset, but when it all ended, with no subtitles or audio to aid me, I had no clue who ended up where. From the tears and cheers from China, I figured they cinched Gold, but the United States was still celebrating like they'd won Gold, while Japan looked on forlornly.
I waited for something to flash up on the screen to tell me the standings. I'd been watching for over an hour as the US Team threw their hands up at the cameras with a "number one" clearly to denote their dominance, but after the performances I saw, I worried that their egos were running away with them.
Then, there was that celebration. They hugged and cheered, so exuberant, so happy... but China was celebrating, too, and Japan looked pissed. What happened!?
Finally, the screen flashed showing the medals, and in that moment, I felt a lot of pride for our team. China, indeed, took the Gold. The pissed-off looking Japan took Silver, and our little team, celebrating like they'd taken the whole thing, took Bronze.
I know it may sound goofy, but it made me proud to be an American. The Japanese team got Silver, an amazing accomplishment considering they were going up the muchly-favored Chinese team. Though they did not defend their Gold from the last Olympics, they looked as depressed as though they had not placed at all. It reminded me of the looks on the faces of the French after the 4x100 Freestyle Relay earlier in the week.
Our team lost Olympian Morgan Hamm to injury right before the competition, and many thought the United States would accomplish nothing in the Men's Gymnastics, but they pulled through with a Bronze medal, and celebrated as though it were Gold.
That, to me, embodies a part of the human spirit that is often lost. We feel depressed to not be #1, to not be the best. We have this ache inside of us pushing us forward, but sometimes that ache to press on morphs into an obsession that can drive us to madness. We no longer ache to become something more, but to be the top only, and to not be the top is failure.
I do not believe in that. I do not believe you have to be the very best in all. I do not believe that if you do not achieve greatness in everything that it makes you a failure, and the United States team personified that early this morning as they celebrated an unexpected victory.
Were they #1? No. One could argue that they barely medaled, but they did, and they savored every second of it. They clung to every moment, pumping one another up as they traded places, stepping away from exercises that varied from fantastic to dismal.
The pressure was on, and all they could do was their best, and they did it, and they were rewarded for it. They pressed forward and they didn't care about being first. They just wanted to be in the race.
That is such an inspiration to me.
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So ends this edition of the Muffy Chronicles. Stay tuned til next time for more tales from the Midnight Mistress.
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(VISITOR) AUTHOR'S NAME
The Midnight Mistress
MESSAGE TIMESTAMP
13 august 2008, 03:12:46
AUTHOR'S IP LOGGED
170.20.11.116
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