"That which is overdesigned, too highly specific, anticipates outcome; the anticipation of outcome guarantees, if not failure, the absence of grace."
-- William Gibson, All Tomorrow's Parties
Who cares?

Has media so affected our perspective that we've lost the ability to live our own lives? When we fight with our loved ones, are we actually displaying true emotion, or acting out the script from last weeks teen angst drama? When we argue with our girlfriends ex-boyfriend, are our words our own or some self-righteous pretty boy so far removed from actual people he may as well be another species?

When we tell her we love her and that it will work out, is that us, or the lines of some craggy forty-something actor with his eyes slitted against a western sunset, grating out chosen words about love and life?

Have our relationships always been so convuluted, so intertwined and complex, or did we just soak it up while in the womb and become acclimated to the idea of it? When did straight-forwardness become rare?

When we walk down the street, watching the people around us, fragments of overheard conversation becoming a torrent of background gossip radiation, is this life? These dramatized overreactions, the thrill of thrusting intimacy into the ears of passing pedestrians; were we always like this, before someone sat down with a pen and thought to themselves, "How can I glamorize this emotion? How can I make this edgy and sexy and make people want to wear it or talk like it or pretend in their head that this is how the world is, just so they can get through their nothing day?"

Have we so lost our way through the maze of commercials and soft drinks and designer clothing that we have no concept of whatever true human interaction might have once meant?

Where do the lies end, and we begin?

How much more of this can I take?

August 3, 2004 11:40 PM