do you take everything at face value or do you look for hidden meanings? when do you decide that what i’m saying needs to be considered a metaphor for _____? is being literal-minded a compliment or a put-down? what subtle distinctions cue you to the fact that this statement is true (its face value, such as it is)? do rhetorical questions annoy you? (you know what does annoy me though, and i’m hearing it more and more, is when a commentator asks a question, such as: “did you have all of the technical qualities that make up a quickstep?” and then answers, “no, you did not, but what you did have is _____.”)
do you keep your ‘lives’ separate from one another? like a venn diagram, there may be the occasional overlap (you know it is inevitable that one will reference the other and at some point in time, they will rub up against each other like riding in a crowded subway car on the way home, it’s comforting and irritating at the same time. everyone wants to get home, their minds are filled with the inner monologue we all have going, “what will i make for dinner? are there any leftovers? did john pick-up the kids after school like he said he would? i’ve got to pay that macy’s bill before the 22nd. can you believe how badly that man smells next to me? and that suit! what was he thinking? doesn’t he have a mirror?”)
but let’s get back to how you manage your lives (you all do have multiple lives, don’t you? i can’t possibly be the only one who thinks this way, at least i refuse to believe i stand alone — like the cheese — and inhabit more than one life.) so, hypothetically, let’s agree that it’s possible that we do separate and compartmentalize certain parts of our lives, perhaps it’s the work part, the home part, the this friend or that one part, your online life (such as it is, and quite possibly even that life has multiple parts).
btw, i took a little break just now to eat one of these green plums. it was delicious, a perfect combination of tart and sweet, the skin just starting to wrinkle, its texture soft and warm, greeted by the juicy, slick meat, just ever so slightly cooler, enough though to heighten its deliciousness, its provocative nature so fully on display as i took one bite after another, working my way around the pit until my teeth scraped its crenelated surface and its sharp bitterness promised to overpower the sweetness of the fruit unless i pull back; that final sucking sound as i popped my lips away from it, triumphant, tossing it into the garbage pail.
and here, now, i find myself debating the pros and cons of conflating all of my individual selves into one, perhaps to bake a pie, or make an omelet (you know, i do prefer to spell omelet as omelette in spite of what my spellcheck insists is proper), but should i do that i worry that it’ll all be eaten up and there won’t be anything left to savor and enjoy, one bite at a time.