We’re Really Just The Same. Okay, Not At All.

When Paris Hilton got out of prison she began her press tour touting her “changed” ways and discussing how living in hell for 23 days had eaten her up and shit her out new again. Call me a cynic, but I don’t exactly think 23 days of prison can morph a Britney Spears into an Eliza Doolittle. Judging from Hilton’s laughable illustrations casting her as a Japanimation style inmate in a sparse (and labeled) cartoon universe, her thought process seems to be nothing but a string of clichés.

(Paris Hilton's masterpiece of modern art that she created while living in the big house. Can Tate Modern please snatch this up?)

Yet as I sit in this coffee shop and ask myself what I have learned from three months of (rather) solitary confinement I find clichés are the only thing that come to mind. For the first two months of my sickness I could barely string together two thoughts, let alone deeply analyze myself. Now that my brain seems to have regenerated a bit I get angry that I didn’t write a book, choreograph ten ballets during my couch tenure or create a line of products for QVC. Then I remember the most important cliché that I have learned in the past three months: live in the moment. I can’t change that I didn’t feel well a month ago, and I can’t guarantee I will feel well tomorrow, I can only work with what is happening right now. Sure, I’ve forgotten what healthy feels like but to think about that is to burden myself with things out of my control. However easy that is for me to type, actually practicing a positive attitude as a way of life is rather difficult. Nick, in his constant search for fun acronyms, created CYA: Choose Your Attitude and it’s becoming my new mantra.

I hope that whenever I do regain some semblance of health I will be able to cherish all the small things (no not the “Blink 182” song) a little more. The energy to walk that extra block, the chance to dance (I know you are singing “A Chorus Line” in your head right now), staying up late and talking to my friends as we pillow fight and paint each other’s nails. Oh wait, that’s not my life… but you get the idea. I guess we all have that moment where we start thinking “what’s the deal with life?” (right, Michael?) and perhaps today sitting here in Doma, is my chance to realize how fleeting it is. Did Paris have this same type of awakening? Who knows? But we do have similar drawings…

(My OBVIOUSLY superior work of art. Complete with my signature....from the fourth grade when I was living on a rainbow.)

This has been your recommended daily dose (not analyzed by the FDA) of emo-ness. Please use only prescribed because your head might explode when filled with more than recommended intake.

Comments

[Jennifer]

m, i can think of one person who draws worse than you do...and that is me

[Mr. Grumpy]

I thought CYA was cover your ass, but choose your attitude is pretty good, not to mention, sage advice. I should do that more often.

[Nick McCarvel]

Matt. This post is FAS. Serse, it really is. I'm thankful for our friendship and the emo-ness that we bring out in each other. Now let's go eat somes PIABs and PIMM all night long :)

[Anthony King]

Ya know, I understand. I alsways say to myself that enjoying a good cup of tea at the National Gallery is the same as recieving a million pounds.

Although...that probably isn't the case in reality, i try and keep with the idea of enjoying the moment or at least "living" in the moment, good or bad, happy or sad, angry or whatever.

Thanks for the post

Anthony