back contents next August 24, 1999

Regret (On Display Collaboration)

Regret is a difficult topic for me to talk about. Not because there are so many things that I regret that it makes me sad or something like that, but because my answer depends when you ask me.

There are days when all the regrets of my childhood come flooding back to me and I become angry and sad and shake my fist violently at the world for the injustice it has dealt to me. Bah bah bah!

But most of the time, I don't have regrets. Atleast, not real ones. That's a product of a happy life, I suppose. I love my life. I love where I am right now. I love the people around me and the ones I care for. How can I regret something in the past that could alter what I have now? I can't.

I'm also deathly afraid of losing the wonderful life I have now from an emotional standpoint. Thinking about regretting past decisions might jeopardize what I have today emotionally. I might start being unappreciative of what I have now. That's Not a Good Thing(tm). I've matured enough to realize that what I've got is very good and I have no reason other than silliness to forget that.

In general every day-to-day life, I don't regret anything for more than a minute. Then my mind is off playing or thinking about something else. It's kind of nice to be easily distracted. However, on some days when I'm brooding, I start thinking about what I "regret" and the same thing comes to me every time.

My biggest "regret" is something that I really cannot do: be someone else.

Sounds silly, doesn't it?

I love being a geek. I love the subculture I'm a part of. I don't really "fit in" anywhere else and I'm not as accepted in other subcultures. I have no objections to that. But sometimes, I wish I was someone else.

I wonder what I would be like had I not fallen in love with computers. That was a decision I made when I was younger, probably too young to make that decision. I loved looking at wires and circuits and seeing the computer (an old Heathkit!) that my father was putting together. It was like a gigantic puzzle. I wanted to play with it and understand it, so I did.

That decision is one that I sometimes "regret". What would have happened if I got interested in other things instead of computers? If I was interested more in music or in art than in books and technical things. Would I be more like my sister? She's very artistic and hasn't gone the technical route. She's got a larger group of friends than I did when I was her age. More popular interests.

Then again, I'm not sure if my parents would have let me live that way and become someone more like her. I was the one with the life planned out. Eileene will be a doctor someday! I still have the name tag they made for me when I was very little that says "Doctor Eileene B. Coscolluela" on it. I was destined to be under technical stars. Or atleast scientific ones. All things considered, I don't think it would be possible for me to be someone else. My environment wouldn't let me.

Some days I still "regret" it though. I look at the people passing me on the street in the city and see some well-coiffed, fashionable woman pass me. Beautiful hair. Perfect nails. Perfect complexion. Perfect poise. I wonder if she's happy with her life like I am happy with mine. I wonder what she is thinking when she looks at me in my Star Wars Episode I tshirt and relaxed mannerisms. Does she regret her life at all? Even for a moment?

Then I remember it is a silly question and that I really don't regret my life. It's more "wishful thinking" than regret. Real regret is something that I wouldn't be able to let go or be flippant about. "If I had to do it over again, I would do it differently"-feeling. I don't get those. The past bad things I've done in my life molded me to who and what I am today and if I had to live my life over again, I would probably do it again the same way.


Maybe that's why I like roleplaying. I get to be someone else for a little while. When it's all over, I'm back being me again and nothing's been risked or changed. I think I'll stick to that.

back contents next

© Copyright 1999 Eileene Coscolluela