September 24, 2010

Black Widow Blues

Theme song: Soldier Side (Intro), System of a Down, Mezmerize


My Heritage Day post... Though this one will have very little to do with Heritage Day. And, no, I did not take the opportunity to have a braai today. Pity.

Today I saw what I think was a Black Widow spider walking on the wall just behind my mom. I immediately told her to move so that we could swat the thing directly into the hereafter, which we did, when I was reminded of how these little things got their name.

On a philosophical note, it's amazing to see how many people who engage in relationships (where a relationship here can be meant to be anything from a simple rivalry, to a friendship, straight through to the nasty end of the scale, like a, oh, you can try filling in the blanks there!) with others simply seem to do exactly what these Black Widow spiders do: get jiggy (here I'll simply say that getting jiggy can change from context to context -- or relationship nature to relationship nature, however it applies) and then eat their partner's heart out afterward, killing them. Well, not the literal kill but they do kill them inside. Those of you who have experienced this would know exactly what I'm talking about. Having almost always been in similar situations myself, I did find a rather strong urge to go and seat myself at the piano and begin playing The Black Widow Blues. But I stopped myself as I reached for the manuscript paper and a pencil, and took out Liszt's Harmonies du Soir instead. My reasons for this are simple: one, I'd rather not degrade myself to a whiskey-drinking, cigarette-smoking emotional mess (strange that this should be a good reason since I'm probably halfway there already -- I don't drink and smoke though) and two, the feeling of accomplishment gained by managing to play one of Liszt's Transcendental Studies is, in my opinion, far better than having to remember all the people who have, and still are, eat(en)(ing) my heart. It's a real wonder that there's still more to go around, actually...


After a few minutes of consideration of the above, as well as some past and present experiences, I have come to the following conclusion: life should not be like Pizza Night.

I know that this seems to be largely in contradiction to what I've said in my previous post, but I only did once more realise this fact last night. You see, at Pizza Night, I actually tend to eat too much pizza. And then I could also be seated at an awkward place, meaning that the waiters mostly walk past me to other sections of the restaurant. Naturally, I don't say anything since I don't want to look like some tremendous glutton (again, I'm already halfway there). My final reason for this change of paradigm would be that they don't always make your favourite pizza; and if they do, and it eventually comes around to you, you're either too full to eat or you're about to leave. But the reason mainly always rests with the former thought.

The reader would most probably then raise the following questions: how does the above experiences at Pizza Night apply to real life and, more importantly, if life should rather not be like Pizza Night, then what should it be like?

I obviously can't answer the second question just yet, as I'll probably only know the answer to that as I lie there dying.

I could try to partially answer the first one though: just as you're sometimes not seated at a pizza-optimal location at Pizza Night, equivalently, you may also not always be in a position in your life where you have the optimal number of good things coming your way. Also, just as your favourite pizza either turns up when you're completely full, or even if it's never made that particular night, in life, you don't always get what you want and what you want isn't always what you need and, even if you do actually need it, it can sometimes either come at the wrong time or at a time when you can make no good use of it. Some may say that that last bit is redundant, but it's not -- try and make the distinction yourself!

So now I'm off again, to long for that one person's company.

I remain, as always, your most loyal and submissive housemaid, lover and friend.

~

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