March 1, 2014

  • God Damn It.

    Do you love me because I'm beautiful?
    Or am I beautiful because you love me?
    Is this where the difference lies between the 99 year old grandparents you see sitting on porches smiling side by side in rocking chairs; and the men who jump ship at the first hint of a mid-life crisis in the taboo shape of the most passable illegal-alien maid cleaning their shower, or the first platinum-blonde gold-digging 18-year-old to look their way - or the women who just straightened one too many ties in their marriage, or endured one too many disappointing anniversaries and Valentines Days to be able to stomach making another sandwich they won't get to taste, and become excited about getting to be bored, because everyone knows that for a woman in a mid-life crisis, nothing goes better with menopause than a mid-grade Lexus, a brand-name treadmill, a specially-designed invisible-wine-glass made with all of the mad, married, mid-life, moody, martyr-Moms in mind, and a ripe young man to clean the pool left to rot by the kids - and to think, that concrete pit in the backyard that only ever has soggy, dead leaves in it, was once the spot where your sunny little garden was ... And to complete the ironicly predictable, full turn of the cycle of overanalyzation ... This is the exact reason they are blessedly able to deny all guilt for actions taken that once may have shocked and sickened them, but now are no more than a righteous, fair, completely-justifiable reaction to the actions of their loved ones which were brought on by feelings very hard to differentiate from their own once the fine details are stripped away; Enter: the worn out, worn down, overworked, overlooked, and over-obligated Dad's of the world, who hit middle-age and wake up terrified one day, to the realization that when they vowed to eternally love the woman making their sandwhiches, they hadn't yet endured 16 years of Ham and Cheese being the only divider between morning work and afternoon work, and now suddenly it's somewhat understandable that all it takes is one little personal assistant in a tight mini-skirt to reach into the breakroom fridge and pull out a turkey and cheese sandwhich, to make you remember that other sandwhiches are still out there ... It's just ashame that they rarely stop to consider that the turkey and cheese will go the way of the ham and cheese, and will eventually fall prey to roast-beef and cheese or salami and cheese, which will probably in time be left for some other meat and cheese as well. And I really think that there's probably a time in these men's lives, after they've had their fill of every meat and cheese combination they could ever imagine, that they realize that in the end it was all just a different meat with cheese. And once that concept hits, I could only imagine that the ones who haven't yet drowned their last brain-cells out in whiskey, finally come to understand the reason why the Ham and Cheese might have been worth sticking with - because what it all boils down to, is when they open their lunches during their breaks, they might have something new to brag about, or they might just have Ham and Cheese. But if
    Is someone more beautiful before you fall for them, or once you've fallen?
    I think both, in different ways; I think beauty can have two meanings here.
    If someone asked you where you would want to go most if you could go anywhere in the world, chances are it would be somewhat far from whatever you consider home ... But if someone asked you where you would want to <i>stay</i> most ... Is your answer the same as your previous one? Did it come to mind a lot quicker? Was it somewhere somewhat far from the place you "want to go"? Was it less of a fun little decision to think about, and more of a plain fact that can't easily be opposed? Was it the place you're standing now? Was it somewhere near by? Was it somewhere across the globe? Was it just a place in time? And if you really stopped and thought about it - I mean <i>really thought hard</i>, was it something that you locked inside?; was it in the corner of your heart where you always hide?; was it real and blatant and hard and cold?; and was it only cold because it used to burn so bright?; and how bright did it burn?; how bright <i>did it burn?</i> ... This is where the light is shed on the little fine lines and the doomed debatable boundaries that direct the flow of our daily lives, our fates, and all our pasts - for good or ill - and perhaps both good and ill are open to interpretation here ... Go nuts, if you've got the 'eye of the beholder'. Throw nuts if you're the one being beheld ...
    Oh, nuts.
    ...