Sunday, June 27, 2010

On Spontaneity

My friends are not very good planners.

Sure, we prioritize, set dates in advance, but when it comes time to actually get shit done, we're not exactly the army corp of engineers. The best laid plans seem to be set only a few days in advance. Maybe four or five, max. Anything longer will require excessive planning that will change repeatedly, then again the night before and usually involves large cash expenditures for gas and admittance and food-slash-drink.

Somehow we've all adapted, though. It's gotten to the point where I'm pretty sure we all leave our schedules open because we know something is coming. I've been invited into The City with a half hour's notice. I've been invited upstate the night before. I've been invited to a theme park in New Jersey of all places on maybe three days grace. I've been invited to someone's prom two hundred miles away with maybe a month beforehand.

But today was a new one. Today I was invited to be a bridesmaid's date to a wedding on Long Island thirteen hours ahead of the ceremony.

Thankfully, this was somewhat facetious, but somewhere in the infinite void is a universe where I end up going down to Lawn Guyland and partying with a bunch of people I've never met. I think I'd like to live in that universe, but my responsibilities for tomorrow were set by my own volition weeks ago. Would that I could, but I'm already seeing the dozen tiny sings that the universe has seen my altruism and is pleased.

The Universe is an everlasting river with lulls and eddies and currents, and if you listen carefully to the sound it makes you will hear its multitudinous voice, forever speaking, "Ohm."

Either that or The Universe is a fickle bitch, created in my own vast but tiny mind too terrified of emotionally dealing with the rest of humanity on anything but my own limited terms.

But probably the first.

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