...regrettably (or not)

(This post began as a four-hundred word diatribe about broccoli. This has been omitted, however, because I realized that it had NOTHING to do with what the bulk of what this post was about. Rest assured, I'll save it for another day.)

Everyone has regrets. I'm making a generalization, sure. But first, let me explain.

I thought about the word “regret” a few days ago (during a spell of brooding, I assure you). Immediately I recalled two very different songs of very separate time periods. The lyrics are as follows:

Regrets, Ive had a few;
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption. - “My Way” (Frank Sinatra, 1969)

Maybe I've forgotten
The name and the address
Of everyone I've ever known.
It's nothing I regret. - “Regret” (New Order, 1993)

I enjoy both songs immensely, although I think I'm partial to New Order. However, I'll give Ol' Blue Eyes his due. He admits that he's had his regrets. New Order frontman Bernard Summer, however, seems to assert that he doesn't have any regrets. I find that hard to believe.

There's a philosophy that gets thrown around a lot, especially by famous actors or musicians. It's the idea that one has no “regrets” because if things happened differently, well, they wouldn't be the successful fatcat that they are today. Basically it's the whole “butterfly effect” business.

I used to subscribe to this, and to an extent I still do. A sour friendship or poor decision makes for great writing material. Without my various mistakes, mishaps, and setbacks, well, I would probably be lacking a good number of words to fill the proverbial page.

However, when I look back at my high school junior self I have an immense regret. I more or less flipped the bird to Nathaniel Hawthorne, Mark Twain, that chick who wrote The Awakening, and numerous other American literary authors. Now here I am some three years later, kicking myself in the head because I'm ironically majoring in English Literature and have admittedly have a very poor foundation of “classic” American Lit. I instead opted to focus on Lightspeed Academy (band), cookies, and professional wrestling. I regret not paying attention and basically wasting possibly one of the most important academic years of my life.

But do I? What if that energy I spent writing that riveting bassline (please, smell the sarcasm) was spent on The Scarlet Letter? Do I want to know? Would a song not have been completed which would have impaired us playing a show which therefore impaired the progress of the band which would have led to an early breakup? Would I still be friends with my former bandmates had I not?

Like I said, it's that butterfly effect business.

The fact is, though, that I do regret it. I can twist it all I want with all the “what if's” but the fact is that I really would be better off now had I tried harder. In reality I could have easily managed both, but I was lazy.

(Although I do get a kick out of that time I got an 8.5/10 on my essay on Ethan Frome with no knowledge of the book other than a word of mouth summary. I really do empathize with the people who actually read it and did worse, because I now know the feeling and it's pretty terrible.)

Listen. People will constantly say whatever they can to justify their position in life, whether it be their happiness or choices, as long as it's in their favor. Nobody wants to be wrong or admit that they might be wrong. These people, I suppose, do not have regrets. Is this a good or bad thing? I don't have the authority to judge because I tend to be one of those people to tries to constantly justify their shortcomings. Yet I've also come to realize that the whole “admitting you have a problem” business perhaps isn't all garbage after all.

So I suppose whether or not you have regrets is completely up to you. I guess that's what I'm getting at.

The real question, though, is whether or not Mark Twain will ever forgive me.