Friday, November 30, 2007

Zipper


Ideal. Who knew a simple zipper could express so much?

Something funny struck me when I looked down at my stylish new hoodie.  The zipper, a quality piece of metal, by the way, had the letters "IDEAL" printed on it.  Ideal.  Perfect.  The best possible.  That's quite a feat to live up to.  I mean, I didn't think such a small, innocent little zipper could put so much pressure on me.  I'm bearing this seal of perfection, I should live up to it.  But how can anyone be ideal?  Cliches have taught us that nobody is perfect, so what am I to do?  The way I see it, there are a few things that could happen.

I could buy a new hoodie, or simply not wear this one.  The problem with this is that I like my apparel too much to just abandon it.  There's a certain level of style provided by my comfy gray companion that I simply can't do without.  This option is out of the question.

I could be ideal... I kinda like how this one sounds, but I think I know how it would pan out.  I'd be really studious, kind, and charitable for a few days.  I would go out of my way to help people, and be the best person I could be.  After maybe three or four days I'd find someone that would pinch my last nerve and completely go off on him/her.  Some off-the-cuff insults and lots of mumbled swears later, I'd be at home blogging about what an impossible standard we're held up to from day to day.  I'd write about how I take classes in a feeble attempt to learn new things, and study material that interests me.  I'd make note that this educational system favors rote memorization over comprehension and useful knowledge.  It would be about how we're expected to put on one face for our professors, one for our peers, and a new one for recruiters.  The post would probably lead to a song that I've been trying to write for a year, which details all these facades and the hopelessness of it all...  Something tells me that a different solution is what I need.

I could redefine 'ideal.'  Now, this I could work with.  It's pretty clear that perfection is something reserved for fairy tales and hopeless dreamers.  I'm a real person in one of many real worlds, and as such I need a real expectation.  Call it what you want: I'll call it ideal and proudly wear my sweater.

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