A Change Would Do You Good (a fiction)
I. A Change Would Do You Good
Many an argument has been fought over whether or not we truly have ‘free will’ or if our lives are determined by something like destiny—something that sees to it that our lives end up in a predetermined place, and all choices are destined to lead that way.
Personally, I don’t believe in destiny. But then, I really don’t have much in the way of free will.
That’s the problem when you’re a high school student and still have a few years left (and a lot of money to earn) before you can move out of your parents house. In this I’m-stuck-at-home-indefinitely period, free will is pretty nonexistent…you know?
So, it should come as no surprise that when my parents said, “Pack up, we’re moving to Ohio,” I couldn’t really say no.
It’s not like I have other family in Chapel Hill, North Carolina (or anywhere in the southern US, for that matter). My mom had accepted a professor position at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill and moved me, my dad, her and our kitten Sassafras, to Chapel Hill 5 years ago. And she’d been happy. But now it was time for a new road, she said.
Ha, new roads.
Despite my inherent lack of free will and locally placed extended family, I fought. What good are you if you don’t fight for what you believe in? I pleaded, screamed, yelled and god knows even shrieked. I tried the couple of tears routine, threatened to run away to Canada, and even a tad bit of what I thought was logical…all to no avail whatsoever. At the end of the argument, the decision was still made. We were moving to Gahanna, Ohio, a place less than 10 miles away from Columbus, OH and the home of Mom’s new job at Ohio State University. I’d be starting my junior year of high school at a completely different high school—I wouldn’t graduate with all my friends from East Chapel Hill High School—I’d be graduating with a bunch of kids from Lincoln High School, the only high school in the Gahanna area. The home of the lions. Stupid lions.
What is it about lions that makes people think of the male lions with big manes? I’d like to see a lion mascot that isn’t a male lion with a big fluffy mane. Lionesses are much more majestic anyway.
But, that’s not the point. The point is, here I am on a plane headed to a place I’ve never been and never dreamed of going to. what I thought of as ‘happiness’ is hanging by a thread being weighed down by the increasing weight of anxiety and tension.
At least I’ve got this journal to write in. I’ve always wondered if my words will ever be projected into the wider world. I doubt it, but it’s neat to think of. maybe, just maybe I’ll be famous one day. Not in a Jessica Simpson or Paris Hilton kinda way, but in a Meredith Brooks and Sheryl Crow kinda way. Famous, definitely, but respected. Not laughed at.
Well, first things first. I’ve got two more years of high school and an indefinite future ahead of me. So I guess it’s time to suck it up and take Sheryl Crow’s words to heart. Maybe a change will do me some good.
I doubt it, but I gotta tell myself something, right?
NOTE: This should be the first of many fictional entries in the life of sweet Rosalyn~like your favorite TV show-a new ’chapter’ of sorts should be posted every Wednesday, writers strike be damned. So do check back & feel free to leave some love