Thursday, July 15, 2010

abandon in the winds

Whenever I watch a glossy reality show I feel an odd inspiration to mimic their lives. The way they live is, according to us, silly, without substance, and melodramatic. But I need to look no further than the sterile academics I'm swimming with to know what attracts me to the golden tresses on the other side of the TV screen. It's the ability to own up to everything they feel. They drink their mocha lattes and complain to their girlfriends and confess to their crushes and express their dislikes without any discernible barrier between the throat and the mind, whereas we are rendered mute.

If any of those actions dared spill over this side of the screen, it'd be quarantined into whatever that shuts up the desperate and passé and irrational. The one get-out-of-jail-free card is, conveniently, the inducement of alcohol, an always reliable scapegoat. Why so proper? Why not rein in abandon? Why not let what you do say something other than that you know where social boundaries lie?

I'm so sick of people telling me: "don't do X because they'll know you feel Y". Maybe that's exactly why I want to do X. Maybe I want an other to know I feel Y. Maybe actions should signify desires. Maybe the external world should reflect internal affairs.

Maybe I want my X to mean something.

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