COLUMN: Rolling the Dice

From Allison Winn's "Allison Wonderland," Fall '95 From Allison Winn's "Allison Wonderland," Fall '95Life, I should think, is a very easy thing to take for granted. It is not until confronted with the issues of death that I understand and embrace the good From Allison Winn's "Allison Wonderland," Fall '95Life, I should think, is a very easy thing to take for granted. It is not until confronted with the issues of death that I understand and embrace the good fortune that comes with merely being alive. Death is something that I do think about, especially my own. And I know that it is something of which I am terribly afraid. Perhaps it is due to these fears that I try to live my life without boundaries. I want to leave open every door, every pathway because I never know which one I may want to follow and where it may lead. I want nothing to inhibit my opportunity to live. And I don't mean "live" as in merely being. Anyone can simply be. Anyone can breathe, can walk, can speak. Anyone can live in a colorless world. No, I mean "live" as in floating and plunging, dreaming and waking, soaring and diving. I want to drift in the serene waters of the bluest oceans. I want to shout my name in rolling canyons and hear the echoes in the caverns of the mountains. I want to absorb the world around me, inhale its air and its gifts, and exhale that air with my own unique additions. So I live my life as others might not. And that's okay with me. I laugh at times when some might hang their heads. I speak when some might hold their tongues. I act when some might guard their behavior. And maybe I laugh and I speak and I act a little too loudly, as I revel in the pleasures of my actions. But that's my very point. If you're going to live, live loudly and live colorfully, because you never know when your chance to speak or shout or laugh will be taken away from you. And in my loudness, I might step on some toes, and I might strike some nerves, and I might not be liked by everyone I meet. But that's okay with me too. Because I have been given my one shot, my one chance to make my mark on the world. I want my mark to be indelible. Nobody, not my parents, not my friends, not my God, is going to be able to do that for me. Everyone has been granted the gift of a voice so that we can all be heard. If I hide behind my thoughts, trapped between my words, I will have accomplished nothing with my individuality, and the legacy of my life will be as transient as my life itself. What would be the point of living if I do not make the most of the time that I have? I believe that to leave this mark, I have to take chances. When I was six, I was the only girl on my T-ball team, and once, just once, I hit a home-run. But even if it were only once, I proved that I could do it. When I was seventeen, I lived among the roaches and the poverty on a refugee camp in Thailand. I cried and I agonized, but I also smiled and I also learned. I pushed myself when I thought I could not, and in the end, it turned out that I actually could. Yet certainly, just as not all of my actions have required risks, not all of my risks have resulted in home-runs or newfound enlightenment. I've rolled the dice many times only to discover that they were loaded. But at least I rolled the dice. In my losses, I have learned what I did right and what I would never again attempt. I have learned when to keep pushing and when to let go. And I have learned that losing hurts, it hurts deeply and acutely. But each time I lose, I vow never again to be caught unguarded in a similar situation, and for the most part, I'm not. So I would rather gamble and lose, than never gamble in the first place. Because without the gamble, I would never have felt the exhilaration of the win or the exhilaration of taking the risk at all. And I hope that in pursuing my visions as honestly and faithfully as possible, I will one day be able to look back at my life with no regrets. Not regrets of what I had done, but of those that I had not. Regrets of what I was too scared to try, too weak to face, too ignorant to acknowledge. Regrets of being a coward because a different road was a much easier choice. I can hardly imagine a worse thing to be than a coward. I have been called many things in my life, a coward is not one of them. I want to have tried it all, and because of the experiences and knowledge gained in my attempts, be satisfied with who I am, the choices I have made, and the way I have lived. Long after I'm gone, I want people to remember me. Right now, I am living for myself, so I can become the person who I want to be. Though I am caught in many of the constrictions that accompany life, I try to make my decisions intelligently while still making them honestly. I hope that one day these decisions will help me attain my highest goals, because I believe that I am limited only by myself, and that I am the only one who can tell myself no. And I hope that one day, someone will remember that I did indeed achieve those goals, that I did indeed live by my ideals, and above all, that I did indeed love to live.