The cushioned asphalt is easy to forget. The surface of choice for elementary school games of kickball, basketball, and handball- lined by a soft yellow stucco with a three-dimensionality of its own- the dirt accumulated from intense playground competition that always washed off easily. The battle scars acquired during recess were rarely permanent and healed quickly. The grease stains earned at lunch were never serious, easily cleaned by Mom. More severe cases, scars never healed, garments never salvaged, survive as stories we tell our friends without mentioning the parties involved “way back whenâ€. Like the playground variety asphalt, we forget architecture. The bungalow, shelter against seasonal threats to education- the unbearable heat, the pouring rain and piercing cold of winter- rarely receives acknowledgment or appreciation. These inanimate objects have been abandoned, like old friends, lovers, and relatives. Given time, a period unaffected by an item of the past, the shallow human will forget them with remarkable clarity and accuracy. “But you’re not helping me today,†serves as the most common justification for the conscious amnesia we’ve adopted to avoid those to whom dues of loyalty are owed.
Take a good look at myspace, the fad life has become. We live each day, obsessed with the notion of novelty, constantly changing our profile photos in concurrence with each new emerging trend, to end up depressed moving from phase to phase.
Fuck that. I value constancy, permanence, and loyalty- the gift of growing alongside some place and someone regardless of the inevitable differences and changes that develop along the way. In the end, the alterations we impose upon our existence prove themselves irrational and misleading. ....Proceed with caution- grow up today.
