Posts Tagged ‘ guilty pleasure’

Confessions of Fear

Posted on January 5, 2009

Probably my second favorite...

Probably my second favorite...

I’m not actually scared of death.
I’m not actually scared of my OWN death.
However, (deeper confession):
My single greatest fear is the end of mankind as a whole. Like apocalyptic, Nostradamus, 2012, earthquakes, fire, famine and flood type of shit.
Thus, I refuse it.

I simply block any “information” of this sort from entering my consciousness. People have said it’s a control issue, an explanation that frankly bores me to tears, but could possibly have a bit of merit.

Please, we all know that we are sitting on a rock hurtling through an uncharted abyss, and at some point, there is strong possibility that it may crash. But thus far, I haven’t seen any Exit signs (and we all know that’s the first thing I look for), so I’d rather not entertain these possibilities. Why bother? Can’t do much to stop it.

The Spouse recently asked me what I would do if I knew I only had two weeks to live. I made a supposedly “in-jest” comment to the effect of “been there, done that… I believe they called it 2005.” And promptly changed the subject.

Here’s the rub- I was actually not joking at all.

Yes, I would make sure everyone knew I loved them and all that jazz, but the truth of the matter is, I would buy every drug within a 30 mile radius and proceed to do them all with reckless abandon while unapologetically committing 6 of the 7 deadly sins (except wrath, for I’d have no use for wrath whilst having so much fun), over and over until I gave up the ghost.

Which leads me to people who sincerely use the phrase “Live for Today” (most of whom, ironically, are in 12-Step Programs.) Really? Honestly? You’re lying. You don’t mean that. I would like to MEET the person that truly “Lives for Today.” The entire concept is fatally flawed. You wouldn’t recognize me if I lived only for today. Trust that.

Perhaps that is why I am forever egotistical. Analytical. Self-assessing. The depths of my own imagination and theories on “how” and “why” and “what-if”, are not nearly as chilling as indulging an idea that “tomorrow” is a fantasy.

Still, I have been a bit alarmed lately with my overall state of being. I’m restless. Literally. Symbolically. I need to do something to alter said state, but am wholly paralyzed. What the fuck am I waiting for? To KNOW? Know what? That it’s ending? That it’s beginning? Theoretically, should it matter? Shouldn’t my actions be the same, regardless?

Further, I have less than zero desire to get old. Call me vain, but I want nothing to do with watching myself deteriorate. The cycle of life is overrated.
Look, I know it’s been a little tumultuous here in the Water lately, and I swear I intend to lighten it up soon. That’s the plan. But we all know what they say about the best-laid plans…

So, for today, I shall continue to examine subjects of my choice and actively shun the rest. Unless, of course, I am given some imminently credible and catastrophic evidence that renders such exam useless.

In which case, you can find me in some version of “The Red Shark” screaming down a road “somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert” at 120 miles per hour, waiting for the drugs to take hold.

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Not Your Mother’s Apothecary Table…

Posted on August 20, 2008

Why Pottery Barn? Why? Tell me why your designs and tips are the holy grail of ornamental style? How have you somehow convinced me that blue and brown with a splash of golden yellow are the only appropriate colors for decor? Why am I so completely intoxicated by your “Artisan Craftsmanship” and your “Jacquard Loom Pillow Covers”? I adore the way you name your “collections” after children born and/or conceived in Cape Code circa 1988. Harrington Lamps, Kayley Bloom Rug, Monroe Pillar Chandelier, Tanner Coffee Table, Campton Armoire. I could continue. I could probably continue for 155 pages of unadulterated delight and overpriced madness, but I have to work. You, Pottery Barn, have prevented such actions for the past two weeks and my fear in this moment is that I may lose my purchase power and we will be separated for longer than I care to imagine.
Pottery Barn, you are the holy grail of Shabby Chic. You lack the pretension of Restoration Hardware and are loads less chaotic than Pier One. You have helped me fulfill my dreams of 144 inch flowing window sheers, and for that you are the quintessence home furnishing nirvana.

Get your Hundi Latterns here!

Get your Hundi Latterns here!

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