It’s Like the Giving Tree, Only Not Stupid

I’ve just been thinking about the arboreal nature of human development.
Have you ever met a person who was like a seed, and every once in awhile you have the opportunity to see how they’ve grown, and you remember them as a seed? It’s baffling.
Seeds are so amazing, they have all this knowledge, height, time, and energy packed into this tiny little space. They’re like reverse atom bombs, waiting to burst out with life in every direction.
As you can probably tell, I’m feeling sentimental, looking outward at the world, visiting trees I have no business standing under, imagining. And before you get all worked up, I’m not talking about you, or me, or anyone who will ever read this. But at the same time I am talking about all of us. I do this thing where I forget that the angle at which I look at others is so much more obtuse than the angle at which I look at myself. It’s like standing in the driveway of someone else’s house and comparing it to my own house, which I know inside and out.
And I don’t want to live in a nineteenth century Victorian, and I don’t want white carpets or a TV that takes up an entire wall, but it looks so good through someone else’s window that I forget how much I like my house, where everything inside of it is mine, bought and paid for. Is there a way that I can make this house metaphor more painful?
Sometimes I have to check in and make sure that this is where I really want to be, because it seems so tame to me. But I think I spent enough time in a chaotic state of uncertainty, at least for now. All I want is my dinner, my boyfriend and my bed…. and the various other electronics, clothes, pets, knick knacks and media that we’ve managed to amass.
Alright, goodnight.