A wise man once said, “Life is a pretty sweet fruit.” He also said that he wished the song he was listening to was “a whole day long,” probably just for the cute rhyme he made, but just maybe because it was “Freebird,” topping out at just under “a whole day long.” To me, life IS sweet; simultaneously, it’s as fucking bitter as your ex-girlfriend chewing on raw kale, drinking a triple imperial IPA through a cyanide straw lined with bourbon-soaked almonds. Bitter.
But let’s not forget the sweet. As I’ve grown older, and especially with the advent of our little monster, I’ve noticed that most of life’s sweetest moments are almost always tinged with a bit of the bitter. Just enough of, I don’t know, life or karma or cosmic justice or even just the meddling hand of some twisted gods, to bring us back down to reality.
The more I roll this thought around in my enormous cranium, the more I’m having a hard time finding a situation that is truly just sweet. I love my son to pieces, but too much time with him can certainly wear thin. The moment I’m excited to finally drop him off at daycare, a tear comes to my eye (truly, no sarcasm) because I’d rather spend the day with him — as obnoxious as he, a young child, can be — than be without him.
What are the sweetest moments in life? Climax? Okay, so you’ve just had the greatest orgasm of your life. Awesome. Feel that sweet relaxation for… I don’t know… five minutes? Okay, so what comes next? Realization that you may never have an orgasm that good again? Realization that you have to go to work tomorrow? That you don’t even know the name of the person lying next to you?!
And what once began as a blog about how shitty life is, I come to the sad conclusion that… well, once again, it’s just me. Am I truly that neurotic to not enjoy the sweet, sweet fruit that is life to the utmost? Are others nearly as wrapped up in their own warped psyche as me? Have I actually written more questions than statements in this post? Who the fuck is steering this ship? WHAT YEAR IS IT?!
Truly, though, is it just me? Or is it US?! Let’s examine one of those lovely, age-old adages, as old and beautiful as a botched orgasm: the grass is always greener on the other side. You could argue that it doesn’t apply to this situation, but I firmly believe it does. For some reason (once again, I’m blaming evolution), I believe many of us are hard-wired to be dissatisfied. Is this good or bad? Well, if you’re me, I’d say it’s bad at least 75% of the time. Why? I DON’T GET OFF MY ASS AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT! Sometimes it’s because I perceive things to be out of my control. Sometimes I just prefer to worry and complain, rather than take action. I don’t know, post-orgasm time, in my humble opinion, is a time for quiet reflection, not action.
Of course, if you’re “the grass is always greener” mentality causes you to MOVE and actually do something, then maybe it’s a good thing. Maybe you change those things in your life that cause you to feel worry and anxiety and bitterness, but it begs the question: WHAT COMES NEXT?! If you’ve achieved those goals, but still maintain the mentality, won’t the… uh… grass… ALWAYS BE GREENER! Does that mean nothing is ever good enough?
Alright, enough of my griping. Now that you have that twisted insight into my crazy and ever-unpleasant mind, sound off like you got a pair! Am I being crazy? IS the grass always greener? Can you relate, or is this just a bunch of whiny, sissy crap? Show me yours; I’ll show you mine.