Monday, October 22, 2007

Delicate Deviation

The past thirty days have been an eye opening experience. So much so that I now want to close them tightly, cover my ears, and wander about singing "La la la la". Bizarre clarity as the result of sobriety. Indeed, the world viewed without the blurred vision of beer goggles and endured without rum induced enlightenment is truly a dismal and depressing place.

You begin to notice the underlying selfishness that drives most everyone around. It should be no surprise really - After all who goes out of their way to do something they don't want to do unless properly persuaded with something to gain? Ethics and morality appear skewed. Blind faith and trust become tainted as motivations are questioned... And you find you don't much like the answers. A conspiracy begins to form as you slowly come to the realization that perhaps, just perhaps, not everyone has your best interests in mind.

Their blatant lies become...well... more blatant and obvious. Worse still are the unspoken omissions, those disturbingly familiar silences occurring when a topic is not-so-deftly avoided, or someone fears you simply can't handle the truth. The glimmering of understanding that you've been fooled, and the crushing discovery that you were quite content to be fooled.

Yes, the world, despite the freedom of misinformation, a few cosmetic touch-ups, and artfully crafted illusions, is not a pretty place. Nothing more than a seething mass of insatiable animals striving to rise up by whatever means necessary to feed a voracious hunger for self

And it is impossible not to notice those who remain blissfully unaware. Content avoid individuality and adopting a herd like mentality - bumbling about with glazed eyes, occasionally peering about and wondering if the grass really is greener on the other side of the fence when they notice someone else barrel head-first over the barrier.

I've been sitting on that fence for quite some time now - Sometimes peacefully observing the eerily mesmerizing grazing patterns on one side, and sometimes gazing longingly at the vibrant pastures on the other. And even though I secretly suspect those fields are chemically treated and that no good could possibly come of it - I'm still sorely tempted to make a run for it.

All I need is a smidge more motivation - Perhaps a blinking neon sign, or a warm and enticing taco.
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