Something About Him

I've decided to "publish" some of my musings on my blog for my many fans (hi you two!). I'll post a few now and then every so often, I'll post what fancies me.

I wrote this while sitting in coach flying no where notable:

There was something I liked about him from the very start. Maybe it was his neatly combed and oiled hair pressed down delicately as they used to style it in the 20’s and 30’s. There is something about a well-groomed man that speaks to me. If one should care so much about one’s appearance so passionately, it would lead me to believe other passion’s lay within one’s heart.

But, of course, too much of a good thing can be dangerous--borderline insane. Passion can lead to compulsion, which can lead to obsession. This passion could potentially consume every waking hour or minute and even invade one’s dreams.

But to be without passion of any kind, all the time, would be madness as well. If life lulled along without even as much as a blip on the radar of enthusiasm, would life be worth living? No. I think those that give up do it because something in their heart withers away. Any flitter of joy as an initial reaction gets somehow subdued and then is altogether ignored so that after some time it is not even recognized and therefore not felt.

To not feel--to be numb--is a tragedy. I would rather be angry or dead than to not acknowledge any emotion at all.