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PrintCatching Up With an Old Lunch Date
by Isabel Alcala
“When you’re ready, call.”
He slid a business card across the table. It stopped at an angle right in front of me, just before the edge.
The only text printed on it was the word ‘change’ in big letters.
I looked up. “But I hate you.”
“But you need me,” he countered.
“What? That’s ridiculous. There isn’t even anything in this for me. I just move on to the next person.”
“Wait. You’re right, okay? I just needed an excuse.”
“So call, then.” He vanished.
That was about this time last year, 2010. I never called—until now.
This is not a New Year’s resolution; this is emergency CPR on my heart and soul, which I have allowed to wither in the clutches of worry, tension, over-thinking, and impassion. But I am ready—poised—for change, which is different from wanting change in that the attitude is more assertive, confident, measured. My game plan is now one of keen offense instead of desperate, hopeful, maybe-this-will-all-turn-out defense.
For so long I’ve been one of two extremes: a bull in a china shop or a piece of delicate china in a bull pen. When the former, I attack my goals with reckless abandon only to produce something good that’s not good enough—artistic fragments of china but not a complete plate valued at thousands. When the latter, I have all these great ideas in my mind, but I’m too paranoid to act on them for fear of falling short of perfection. So I sit there while the world gets ahead and I trampled upon.
But now I’m striving to keep my emotions and thoughts in check so that realism doesn’t spit on creativity and creativity doesn’t turn blind to realism. Together they will braid a tapestry. This is the psyche of my change. Maybe you too should give him a call.
