Saturday, September 11, 2010

Why writing is an enigma?

The definition of a cliche is "a trite, stereotyped expression; a sentence or phrase, usually expressing a popular or common thought or idea, that has lost originality, ingenuity, and impact by long overuse."
Rather than face fear or use the confidence that I know is inside this body and mind I rely on cliche to get me through my days and nights. I self-depricate to get to the puch line about me before others do. I'm corny, but tough and good-natured. I rock the grung look ten years after it was in. I use it to my advantage, seemingly not to care what people think about the ripped jeans and over-used collared golf shirts. I try to emit the persona that this look works for me, when in reality I'm not trying to rock a look or be retro. There the only clothes I have. All other things being equal, clothes shopping for myself has not been a priority in my life, eventhough I know most people who see me are judging me on how I look. It's a constant source of obvious ignoration in my life that I always fantasize about changing, but never do.
I encounter many different people every day between work, the commute and home. I judge all of them. Anyone who says they don't judge other people is a liar. I don't want to judge, I just do. "People in glass houses shouldn't throw rocks", right? I've never seen a glass house and if I did it might just be too tempting not to hurl a stone or two.
Neitchze talked about life as an illusion, or at least most of what we are faced with in life is an illusion. Religion, media, government, all illusion. These words I type need to be stripped naked and taken for what they are worth; nothing. My words are an illusion the moment they are transfered from my thoughts to this page. This piece of internet, a virtual reality. "Virtual" meaning not real.
A cliche. A cliche is nothing more than the easy way out. Cliches are part of the illusion of life. I do know that there are moments in life that are real. As real as slicing your finger to the bone with a box cutter when all you wanted was a screwdriver. As real as the ripples on a lake. As real as a child's concern when they learn what it means to die. The real moments aren't told to us by some supposed authority, we experience them. My only authority is my skin, my tongue, my ears, and my eyes. "Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me." I guess sometimes it does work.

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