Flying and Thuds

Anne Shirley: I can't help flying up on the wings of anticipation. It's as glorious as soaring through a sunset . . . almost pays for the thud.
Marilla Cuthbert: Well, maybe it does. But I'd rather walk calmly along and do without both flying and thud.

I have always envied the Marillas of this world--those who are solid, steady, eminently practical, and completely grounded in reality. It's kind of funny to realize this, but for a long time, I thought such people were boring. That they had no imagination. And also, that they had no chance to change.

It only recently occurred to me that many of them spare themselves unnecessary pain by being the way they are.

You're probably wondering what the impetus for this blog post and this new way of thinking is. Well, it's like this: yesterday, I wore some very cute shoes into work. Now, it's important to understand something about women's shoes: as shoes get uglier, they also get exponentially more comfortable and practical; as they get prettier, they become exponentially more uncomfortable and impractical.

Let's be honest here: I'd rather have uncomfortable feet in cute shoes than have solidly comfortable feet in shoes that, it's entirely possible, my grandmother also owns.

The shoes were a necessity yesterday, because I also wore a skirt. (And for those of you who know me and my dislike for skirts--what can I say?--maybe I had a temporary aneurysm?)

Well, as I walked into work yesterday, I found my shoe snagging an uneven piece of pavement. Since the cute shoes are backless, my shoe went one way while the rest of me went the other. The end results were a severely scraped knee (that is already coloring itself into a beautiful bruise), a scraped hand, and a strained shoulder.

All of these injuries--this rather acute 'thud,' if you will--could have been prevented by being more practical. (Also, please let it be duly noted that I was not reading and walking when this incident occurred. Also, please note that if you look at the driveway of the Gold's Gym in Bountiful, you can see bloodstains left by me.)

It seems that, literally and figuratively, the practical are far less likely to fall. This, I think, is a good thing. I envy this.

And yet, though I envy the Marillas of the world . . . I invariably find myself being an Anne. A little flighty sometimes, imaginative, impractical--a person, in short, with her head in the clouds.

Possibly because I'm of the opinion that the sensation of soaring a sunset definitely pays for the thud.

And also because the thuds often make the best stories.