Correct me if I'm wrong, and I'm usually never wrong. Okay! Maybe that one time about the new neighbour down the block with those lovely locks of long hair and an amazing pair of jean clad legs, Unbelievable.
No. Biggie.
As I was saying. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it just so happens that so much of what we percieve is shaded by a thick film of expectation. So much so that, at times, It isn't so much a matter of shading our perception of life as it is a matter of morphing our view of the world.
I say this because, more often than not, expectations are not just delicate bubbles of hope that pop soundlessly when unfulfilled, they're more like huge gas balls that leave aftershocks of regret in their tread. They're that really annoying pimple which seems poised to never leave your face and when you finally blast the bitch out of sheer frustration, it morphs into this even uglier dark spot that just squats there staring at you through the mirror.
AAAARGH!
I know that wasn't much of an example, but what I'm trying to say is that expectations sometimes tend to take over reality, they tend to shape our lives and inevitably screw with our heads.
Your first relationship, for example. Movies are such a pain. Books are even worse. They fill you up with magical hope and fairytale expectations. Love at first sight. Intense feelings of scorching passion. *belch* What you get is an intense smell of onions with greasy hair and a spectacular moustache.
What about the first time you see a girl naked. You want it to be a young beauty with a pert lushness and exotic sensuality far beyond your wildest dreams. Until of course, you end up on a school trip to an old age home to honour the wizened. Bet you won't forget that trip to the restroom. Bet you'll always knock. Seriously. Always knock. Always. *shudder*
Let's not forget the Gym. The Gym is the birthplace of expectations. It's the temple of the ego. Everywhere you look, there's a mirror. Everywhere you look, there's a flexer. It's the battleground of sweat, toil and tears. Where egos are built or destroyed. You either make it, or you don't. Whatever the outcome, there's always some buffed up, testosterone clad jackass flexing his pecs and looking you over in a silent dare of "What-you-looking-at-punk".
Pretty soon, this 'cocky someone' is every expectation you've ever had and never seen. This 'cocky someone' comes to represent what you can never possess. This 'cocky someone' becomes the "in-your-face" that life shoved straight at you. This 'cocky someone' has it ALL.
The gym is a cruel place for the untrained mind. Where egos are built or destroyed.
Especially....Especially if said 'cocky someone' ends up flat on the floor with the heel of his right hand coaxing his now battered groin. Don't judge me.
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Whatever the case, fulfilled or unfulfilled, expectations are dangerous. Wishes are best kept reasonable and low-flying.
Yeah right!
Where's the fun in that! Expectations are dreams. Nobody should limit their dreams. Dreams are our escape into the unbelievable and the improbable.
For all we know, I might still get that kiss from Angelina Jolie. And if it isn't the best? If it isn't upto expectation? Who cares? I'll still piss off Brad Pitt and a ton of other guys. And that, my friends, is worth it all.
So, it turned out he was a guy, but in my defense, I didn't get a glimpse at his face. It could have happened to anyone. No biggie.
No. Biggie.
As I was saying. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it just so happens that so much of what we percieve is shaded by a thick film of expectation. So much so that, at times, It isn't so much a matter of shading our perception of life as it is a matter of morphing our view of the world.
I say this because, more often than not, expectations are not just delicate bubbles of hope that pop soundlessly when unfulfilled, they're more like huge gas balls that leave aftershocks of regret in their tread. They're that really annoying pimple which seems poised to never leave your face and when you finally blast the bitch out of sheer frustration, it morphs into this even uglier dark spot that just squats there staring at you through the mirror.
AAAARGH!
I know that wasn't much of an example, but what I'm trying to say is that expectations sometimes tend to take over reality, they tend to shape our lives and inevitably screw with our heads.
Your first relationship, for example. Movies are such a pain. Books are even worse. They fill you up with magical hope and fairytale expectations. Love at first sight. Intense feelings of scorching passion. *belch* What you get is an intense smell of onions with greasy hair and a spectacular moustache.
What about the first time you see a girl naked. You want it to be a young beauty with a pert lushness and exotic sensuality far beyond your wildest dreams. Until of course, you end up on a school trip to an old age home to honour the wizened. Bet you won't forget that trip to the restroom. Bet you'll always knock. Seriously. Always knock. Always. *shudder*
Let's not forget the Gym. The Gym is the birthplace of expectations. It's the temple of the ego. Everywhere you look, there's a mirror. Everywhere you look, there's a flexer. It's the battleground of sweat, toil and tears. Where egos are built or destroyed. You either make it, or you don't. Whatever the outcome, there's always some buffed up, testosterone clad jackass flexing his pecs and looking you over in a silent dare of "What-you-looking-at-punk".
Pretty soon, this 'cocky someone' is every expectation you've ever had and never seen. This 'cocky someone' comes to represent what you can never possess. This 'cocky someone' becomes the "in-your-face" that life shoved straight at you. This 'cocky someone' has it ALL.
The gym is a cruel place for the untrained mind. Where egos are built or destroyed.
Especially....Especially if said 'cocky someone' ends up flat on the floor with the heel of his right hand coaxing his now battered groin. Don't judge me.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Whatever the case, fulfilled or unfulfilled, expectations are dangerous. Wishes are best kept reasonable and low-flying.
Yeah right!
Where's the fun in that! Expectations are dreams. Nobody should limit their dreams. Dreams are our escape into the unbelievable and the improbable.
For all we know, I might still get that kiss from Angelina Jolie. And if it isn't the best? If it isn't upto expectation? Who cares? I'll still piss off Brad Pitt and a ton of other guys. And that, my friends, is worth it all.
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