Where to begin? I'm sure there's lots of necessary preamble here, but I'd much rather get straight to the point for a change. So, lately in this Beatles class I've been writing down my thoughts and questions as I go along in hopes of later discussing them with someone else who sees their relevance and resolving my numerous conundrums. The first person I asked is my go-to person. He is the person I take anything that I ponder to. I always just assume I guess that he has all the answers. Combine this unrealistic expectation with my unspeakable fear of being found out that I'm actually secretly a complete ignoramus about everything, and what do you get? You get me wound up about nothing before bed unable to sleep, persisting to some unwritten breaking point that this irrelevant issue must get resolved, and RIGHT NOW.
Then Megan came home. I asked her one simple question, to which she replied quite simply, "Well, if that had happened, the world would be a completely different place." We continued to debate the issue back and forth for a half hour or so and then I started talking about painting and her face glazed over (hopefully from lack of sleep as opposed to my grueling conversation) and something struck me.
All the cliche bullshit for the most part is true. You can't please all the people all of the time, despite my desperate attempts to do so. One cannot be expected to be well versed/even remotely interested in exactly the same things as someone else. The best we can do is find some common ground where a forum for responsible, informed waxing poetic is encouraged and very much appreciated but also where unsure but eager spectators can gain their footing and become participants in whatever capacity possible. This is the ideal set-up.
Why I didn't look to Megan for the answer to the John/Paul question from the onset is beyond me. It's questions like those that she absolutely adores from me. It's her shared passion for music that makes us such a right-on duo. She didn't even pause when she answered. She came out with both dukes up and socked me right in the eye and I liked it.
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The glaze over wasn't from boredom. It was from sleep deprivation, and also sort of a sad melancholy related to the 'what if' of that hypothetical.
That was a damn good hypothetical. I'm still thinking about it.
Oh, and how very much I want to meet someone who has their 'stuff' together.
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