We are…

silly little creatures, aren’t we?

I was watching tv while at a dinner the other night (the conversation had slowed) and something someone said set my head ticking a little bit.

There were a group of quasi-adults sitting around a living room somewhere all talking about themselves.

One by one they went around in a vague circle and basically told each other what they were going to do in the near future.

By way of an example, one of them said they were actively seeking large amounts of people to be promiscuous with. They gave some half-assed arm-chair psychologist rationalization for this decision while all the while looking around with shark eyes at all the women in the group for silent takers on the unvoiced offer. (fucking coward)

Another one was leaving everything behind. Job, home, etc. in order to travel the world armed only with a back pack, a serious case of disillusionment, and their wit. Apparently, the six figure job was just too much stress. She was, I believe, the “ivy league, trust-funder” of the group. Obviously much too soul-tired to cope in any real meaningful way with anything. As the conversation wore on, it was revealed that she was a public relations liaison for her daddy’s global interests. She didn’t comment much on her professional duties, but did make mention of fact that the shopping was outrageous in Milan last spring.

The last one I remember was another young man. His name was Neeman (he spelled it for us). Neeman is an artist. (he said it) One of the group gathered took the bait and said, “‘What kind of artist? Do you paint or sculpt or are you a musician?” This was perhaps, the least contrived response of the whole thing. It was simply a request for further clarification. Neeman (of course) pounced on the opportunity. He went off on this poor guy. Asking how dare he put him in a box and that he was a sad, sad person who wasn’t broadminded enough to just accept that he was an artist and that was that.

Well, it drew everybody’s attention it was so heated a response and just when the tension started to thin and everyone was getting comfortable again the questioner spoke up again. I had him pegged for a submissive. Oops.

I guess my bottom line here is that the fact of the matter is that we don’t really know what we need. If we think we do, we’re kidding ourselves. Our own pathology gets in the  way of making decisions like that, yet we do it time and again (i.e. the woman that continually ends up in abusive relationships) and then spend months bemoaning the ultimately divine tragedies that are the outcome of said decisions.

Man, don’t we ever get tired of hearing ourselves talk? (irony duly noted)

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~ by trendof1 on March 4, 2010.

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