Insidious Adaptation

Never have I ever sat in my house, listening to the latest beats, raised my hands, and start jumping around the living room, repeating the words that I knew of the chorus. Never, have I felt the need to get intoxicated to the point of not remembering anything while sitting at my kitchen table, eating stale popcorn from the day before. Never have I contemplated breaking a guys face while laying in bed at night prior to sleep. Never have I done these things, for they are absurd. Absurd only in context however. Absurd because there is nobody there. In all instances the thought never even crossed my mind to do any of those things, because by oneself, they make absolutely no sense. Even a few evenings in the early 20's I recall looking up to see myself reflected back from the mirrors on the dance floor of a local bar. I recall thinking, even in whatever state of mind I was in at the time, this is weird . Now, I can only imagine those same abrupt moves in my living room, sober, at 11AM...

Chemical reaction or a metaphor for life? "Able to dissolve other substances." Or, as a noun, "the liquid in which a solute is dissolved to form a solution." The all-encompassing substance that through osmosis a balance of concentration between inside and outside of the molecule become saturated, is useful for something as simple as making chocolate milk to a diluting a solution's concentration through the addition of a more neutral solvent like water to save a life. The underlying human condition, or as a collective, what makes nations, groups, neighborhoods, the unmeasurable parts of society with it's convictions, desire to assist and grow, and self-sacrifice, is our solvent. It is not measured or given the credit when it comes to the solution. You will not hear someone say, "ah the human condition and the need to connect, really showed up to day to help ol' Betsy up the stairs." No, rather we give credit to the man or woman whom ...

It is the hopeless that need hope, for the optimists have it all figured out right? Like, would we listen to those who maintain a positive regard? Would we want a song about love, where everything worked out, the happy ending, the positive self getting all the stuff they ever wanted? Boring. That isn't worthy of our time. We need pain. We need to feel something and happiness is taken for granted. Get in touch with your spirituality, the fact that life here is temporary and that there is only room for love, removes a lot of pain. Unfortunately, art without pain, without sacrifice, is shallow. Optimism, positivity, they are good for self-help books, but for the real sellers, we need to have us some discomfort. There is hope in Jesus, he died for us after all. The original superhero, for no other Marvel Character did what he did, even in their fictional tales. We no longer live in the pain of death, we are now saved. Say that again using logic. It is as logical as the sun settin...

A squirrel runs up a tree, a scattering of tiny claws on bark. Another one closely follows. Ah, a chase is what is happening here. The mind makes a little story, there must be mating involved, maybe a fight. Maybe, that squirrel is a child and there is play. Do squirrels play?  The edges of the mouth, their familiar patters, the lips stretch across the front, curl up at the ends. Cheeks seem to have less room now, and in combination with eye muscles tightening, they are both lifted and pushed out. The face of innocence, for the mind allowed itself to wander to a dimension of childlike wonder. We could turn this into a nature lesson, gain understanding about how squires work, after all my phone is in my pocket and google is pretty efficient. However, no, this moment will stay just like this. Plus, I don’t care that much. “Uh, I can’t do it, it’s broken.” Screams a child doing in her mind what she was told. “Sweetheart, just push down,” As dad lifts his own foot and pushes on th...

"You don't know what 69 means?" This said to me by a few classmates on a walk back from the mini mart at lunch. "Yea I know what it means." I lied. "What does it mean then?" The fateful challenge, an inevitable elevation of argument. "It's drugs." I went with what I thought was most relevant at the time. (laughter erupts) I have outed myself. I in fact, do not know what 69 means. The rest of that day in 7th grade was abysmal, for I was reminded again that I was different. I was on the outside of something all the other kids knew about. How did I miss this. I couldn't help but wonder, sitting in math after lunch, consumed with the social exclusion I was feeling. After all, nobody will like me now, for not only did I not know something so obvious to everyone else, but they caught me pretending. What if they figure out other things about me? As my adolescent armpits start to erupt with moisture, I now start to fear sweating...

The browning effect ( maillard reaction)  is the caramelizing of meats through the pressure of heat. The more heat, the more brown, the less heat, the more time the browning takes. That savory, crisp of bacon as the pork’s own fat heats up and stores energy, encasing the meat in its own boiling oil, browning it to perfection. The same with a steak, burger, and better be a hot dog or brat, for the boiled versions of these are just upsetting.  Dad, be like...."Burgers are done."  What isn’t as savory and pleasing to Umami parts of the palate is friction of another kind. The kind of friction that only a vague relationship of acquaintances can create. It is not just the pressure in performing when it comes to a coworker or the stress in a passive-aggressive email, but the constant friction of a negative environment. When the comments aren’t direct, but in someone’s tone, or the words like chisels, carving the now-hardened exterior. When the gifts of celebration are so va...

Look at her, miserable. She probably hates it here.  “Why can’t I find a place where people want to work?" Uh, scratch that.  When you are sad, everything is dismal. As though the very paint that paints the world is that of a flat brown and any color attempted to paint over it, pale, flat as well. The picture exists, it forms the same structure after all, but there is no vibrancy. What is lacking is the essence of flavor, the subtle aroma of fresh smells and exciting possibilities. Sadness makes anything negative seem possible, takes away a compliment, and instead of trying to get out, the self-defeat prevents much of what little effort is had. I can only write these words by being in the state of sadness, an extreme, acute, feeling that comes and goes. Possibly from over exertion, or some dietary restriction, which happens. All to often the sadness is remedied through my spiritual connection with God and what he wants for me, but this one lingered longer, maybe long enough...