When I was growing up, my parents used to read my sister and I a story by a local author. This story was about a group of bears that lived at the very end of the road. They were pretty raucous bears - singing sad songs, and jumping on furniture, drinking wine, and smoking cigars. They threw sawdust around their house when it got to clean, and napped all afternoon.
Well, I realized today that I live with these bears - gosh darn it, I might just be one of these bears. My house is at the end of a long winding road, atop a steep hill; we currently like very much to throw sawdust around in our house; and we spend a lot of time napping, and talking, and gathering in food and drink related spaces. We even, on occasion, have been known to sing a sad song.
It's a funny thing, to realize that the life you live could very well be represented by a bunch of poorly behaved bears... it doesn't make me feel badly, in the slightest. Actually, quite the opposite, it makes me a little giggly. I like the bears we know. They live life the way they want to live life, not giving a damn what other people say about how they should live their life. There's nothing wrong with jumping on your furniture once and a while. Or throwing sawdust around your living room. Or taking a five hour nap. As long as you're happy, why not live like the bears?
