Is This For Real?

Hypothetical situation...

I want to you "close your eyes". Of course if you do that, then you can't continue reading so I want you to act like you're closing your eyes, clear your head and imagine this scenario.

You got up today and you're in a good mood. Today's your day off. You've got a couple of lazy hazy errands to run in the AM, and then you're going to meet up with friends later and spend the rest of the day out and about. So you're in the shower, trying to piece together your outfit for the day; something a little nicer than casual and easy enough to move in but bottom line: something you know you'll look good in. It's always so much more enjoyable spending some extra time in the mirror when you don't have to go to work...

Your gas tank is on E, so first stop is to fill up. The attendant at the gas station who you're pretty sure hasn't showered in a week & in between ringing up customers is whooping at his 5 inch portable TV over Jerry Springer re-runs, is giving you bedroom eyes while trying to lick his lips like LL. Even LL hardly does it anymore. "Ok," you think, "Whatever".

Next stop is the grocery store and as you're checking expiration dates on a half gallon of milk, a gentlemen who could easily pass for an extended relative of Frodo Baggins begins asking you random questions like, "Do you eat pork and have you ever seen the Queen Mary in Long Beach, CA?"#ifeelweirdnow



Finally, you make a last minute decision to grab a quick workout so you won't feel so bad about the confectionery nose-dive you fully intend on making later on. Now, all of the hot-shot 25-30something guys are spending more time looking at themselves in the mirror than at you but once upstairs on the treadmill when you're spitting all over yourself in the middle of an interval sprint, a very nice young man who could fit into your jeans twice decides to unveil his soul and reveal to you that he's been admiring you from afar for quite some time now.

Math is not my forte, I will admit. But looking at the equation here, 1+1+1=3, right?

Question: Should we determine our individual level of physical attractiveness based on the type of people we get consistent attention from?

The Essence of We

Ok, I'm sure all of us at one point have heard the phrase, "When you have sex with someone, you take a piece of that person with you and they take a piece of you with them."

Essence of self is lost.

So the more one has sex with different people, the more one loses themselves, giving their essence away.

Apparently then, in today's world, the reason SEX is so important, so necessary, so rushed into with a blaze of breathless excitement is because we have given so much of ourselves away already, there just happens to be nothing left to offer. To share. To discover. To talk about. In truth, what else is there besides sex? Honestly. Because without the protection and guidance of Christ, traveling bleary-eyed down the pathway of life we manage to back ourselves into a corner, empty-handed, having by this time, slowly poured out the "essence" vial that contained who we were and what we consisted of; Through, quite simply, the multiple acts of sex itself. . .

Perplexing

I have no idea if anyone else feels this way or if I'm about to stomp all over a verbal landmine; well I probably am. This is completely off the topic of what I originally sat down to write about but whatever...I'll get back to it. As with almost every other human being in the world, I have a bunch of weighty and not so important thoughts trouncing around in my head and I'll hold them in for months, sometimes years for fear of once expounding upon them in public, I'll be met with a silence that could send Edward Cullen to the grave and then I'll be forced to wallow under a label of ignorance for the rest of my life.

For instance, when I was in college, I took a journalism class in which our professor was a huge U2 fan and a total "favoritist". Not sure whether or not Webster agrees with me on that one but given the fact that "bootylicious" was added to his esteemed pages a few years ago, I won't let it worry me too much. He wouldn't even try to cover up the fact that the prettiest girl in class could have defined journalism as the act of hiding a bunch of diaries under her bed; he still would've given her an A. Needless to say, I tried really hard to pay attention and would agonize through the duration of a class period on whether or not to contribute to a group discussion. Every now and then, I'd luck out and sound halfway intelligent, but most of the time I'd start talking and simultaneously battle out an inner dialogue running through my head. You know, that exact moment when you open your mouth to say something, knowing you have no idea what the heck you're talking about but you have to keep going (otherwise instead of coming across as merely being nonsensical, you would look like Emma from Glee, fully operating in her spiritual gift of social awkwardness). So, you just have to Thelma & Louise it; finishing your incoherent thought, tearing off the side of the cliff, hair tousling in slow motion, perishing in fall explosion of flames brighter than a 4th of July fireworks finale. All in the time frame of 5 seconds. And everyone's staring at you looking slightly confused and uncomfortable. Anyways, I started writing today with a completely different thought on my mind...about using the people who approach us as a gauge to determine our own attractiveness. A fatalistic attitude??