Revolutionary Road

I don't like the book really, but I can't seem to put it down. The problem is that I don't like the main characters, they seem snobbish and shallow. They look down on everyone else. But I am driven by the idea that life often becomes exactly what you mean for it not to be and before you know it you may have sacrificed your dreams.

For example, I live in the suburbs and desperately miss being downtown. I recognize the benefit of a larger house, yard, and kids on the street for my kids to play with (but as we all know, I'm most crazy about the hot tub). I'll admit that Tyler and I get out quite a bit comparatively, but for me personally, it's been a rapid decline since getting married--less concerts, less walks, less festivals, exhibits, etc. So I occasionally lament these losses. But I'm trying to be part of my community here as well, which involves participating in things I never imagined myself doing.

On Sunday I went to church and listened to the women talk about ways to "simplify" our lives. They discussed 4 basic needs: food, shelter, clothing, and fuel (in this case, spiritual fuel). Then each gave tips of how to plan a menu, shop affordable clothing, and cut out things in our schedule. The irony is that they also announced the activities for the week and it seemed there was something every night, some class or lesson or social gathering that, while helpful or educational or even relaxing, was just another to-do on my calendar.

And while I do value recipe exchanges and child-rearing tips while men talk sports and work, I desperately wish there could be more talk about what makes us human. I wish there was more blood in these get-togethers.

And yet how can I decline invitations for some things I crave? I deem myself the snob for not participating in the neighborhood book club because their choices seemed all too fluffy. Feeling bad about that, I attended the get-to-know-each-other night in an effort to show my eagerness to be friends, and found myself saying things and talking about things I don't really care about just to be talking: "Yes I bought this eye-shadow at blah blah blah." "Yes I drive a blah blah blah."

When I picked out the book "Revolutionary Road" after seeing the movie preview, Tyler confessed worrying that it would make me feel more unhappy. His concern is validated by my fear that the price of happiness is to stop caring about your dreams. It may not matter if you never get to live someplace exotic with the person you love or if you don't have as many stimulating discussions as you'd like, or ever be as honest as you'd like on your blog and so on, but if that's what you want, must you give up on it to be happy? I'll probably end up realizing like the girl in "Love in the Time of Cholera" that I've been happy much of the time that I thought I wasn't.

So I guess it's kind of depressing, the book is, but reading it actually makes me realize how much I don't want to be like them. And how happy my relationships actually make me! I think I just get defensive when I sense a threat to an unattained dream. I am impatient to experience some of the things I want to experience and isn't that just as bad as being impatient to have luxuries that come after years of work?