Hypocritical Me, Hypocritical You. Hypocritical them over there… and definitely that one right there.
Who is not hypocritical at least once a day in some fashion.
I am amused each time someone calls me this.
Hypocritical? Yes, of course. I am human. Who is not?
Beep, beep made in China robot. Me spam you.
Beep, beep professional journalist with team of editors. (You can’t write that because of the May 15, 2001 post Bob).
Beep, beep the person that cares.
I don’t care if it happens because that is life. You believe one thing one day and something totally different the next. You hate whiners and yet you win a gold medal in whining each year at the Whine Olympics. It is what we do as people. So yea… calling me a hypocrite… ok. I am one. Got a new one?
Would I shoot the sun if I knew it would doom the world? Could such a drastic decision be made by this hand?
I close my eyes and raise the hand that holds death. My grip is sure as I caress the trigger with my need for action. The speeding bullet from the chamber is sent with my best wishes. I hope that it will matter in the end.
Do we ignore the moment in fear of offending the easily offended? Or do we live the day for ourselves and allow the world that same courtesy.
I really like Eminem’s music video “When I’m gone.” It reflects my current struggles with social media, this blog, and the balance of conflict with my home life. I understand Eminem’s words when talks of his struggle with trying to succeed for his family and what that personal sacrifice sometimes brings. Perhaps finding that “median” is a continuous battle.
What am I drinking this morning? A morning cup of what? It is not whisky to slay the dreams or coffee to wake the churning mind. It is not a Bloody Mary to heal an evening of carousing, though carousing was surely done. It could be a cup of orange juice to greet the morning sun, though I do not care for the acidic nature of OJ. I stand before the fridge and ponder the consequences of such a simple decision. I glance out the window and feel nothing special. I pour a glass of water.
He walks around with one eye closed. He shuts out half the light of the world, and in turn embraces half the darkness. A balance is found and within that peace he is allowed to live his life.
His open eye sees the smiles and welcoming gestures from those around him. The closed eye witnesses the sneers, snickers, and the gossip that flows from his path like water in the wake of a boat. Half a cup of contentment is the serving for the day to battle the distractions of the world.
His body bears marks and bruises left from unfortunate steps in the wrong direction. It is the price that is paid when you walk around half blind. Better to bear wounds of the body than to suffer assaults of the mind. With this knowledge in hand he eagerly walks forward. His heart holds its breath as the man closes both eyes and embraces fate.