Aw... poo...

You know what I hate?

Limbo.

Limbo sucks.

Not the neighborhood yardstick-propped-up-by-tiki-torches game.  I'm talking about life's little tastes of purgatory.  Where people go when they're kind of messed up, need space, or just time to think.  Sure it sounds hunky dory and totally doable, I mean, you've gotta get things figured out, right?  But what about the peeps on the other side of the equation?  Those poor schmucks get to sit it out blindfolded while you get your head on straight.  Not exactly a good time.  While you're over there on the shallow side getting your ducks in a row, your counterpart is treading water in the deep end with no life preserver.


It's interesting how, though we think we are so certain that we know what we want, we're really completely clueless when it comes right down to the test.  We say we want something, but when we get it we get all freaked out and just sit there staring at it, not sure if we should be happy or drop it and run like hell.  Most people seem to simply go with the latter.  It's easier and there's less mess if you screw it up.  Of course, there's no telling if it really would work out, since most people refuse to put more than five minutes' effort into anything, anyway.

So why do we bother spending all our time and effort over our entire lives chasing things we just toss out the window once we've attained them?  Is it the thrill of the chase?  Or have you spent so long chasing it that once you have it you're too overwhelmed to know what to do with it?  I'm going with overwhelmed in most cases.  The majority of people have eyes far bigger than their stomachs.

I'm a very intense person.  I am passionate about everything, and am very "all or nothing" in whatever it is I want or do.  Either you're in or you're out.  But once I have that longed-for goal in my grasp, I give it everything I have.  I pour my very being into it and let it swallow me whole.  If I'm going to experience something, I want to experience it.  I want to become part of it, and let it be part of me.  Don't just keep your eye on the ball, be the ball.

I can certainly understand the point of view of the overwhelmed, but purgatory is still no real treat to endure.  All the good stuff is up one or two levels and they never leave a dessert cart for you.  Purgatory is boxed mac and cheese with fish sticks.  After a while, everything tastes like cardboard.

I want the gourmet experience.  I want smoked salmon, filet mignon, and real truffles.  And by golly I want that darned dessert cart.  Stat.

And come to think of it, I hate the party game, too.

  the word on the street | tags: love | life