Monthly Archives: February 2013

Poor Neglected Elephant

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Why does everybody avoid the elephant in the room?  He just wants to be noticed.  He just wants to be heard.  Try as he might, humans just won’t look at him.  They sometimes feel him when they walk around him, they sometimes smell him when he’s offensive, but they just won’t acknowledge he’s there.  Poor lonely elephant, he’s getting sadder every day.  “I just want to talk.”  He says.  “I just want to clear the air.  Why can’t we move past things, why can’t we share?”

He seems to be destined to stay entrapped in the confines of the four walls keeping the humans captive as well.  It would be so easy to be freed if only they would see.  “I cannot be so scary, for I am just one elephant.  Why, oh, why, do they continue to walk in circles bumping into me without understanding?”  The elephant gloomily ponders.  “I’m actually quite pleasant.  I’m actually quite reasonable.  I just need the visual from them that I am in fact present.”

“If they would just see me, I would feel so validated.  I would know I really mattered.  I just don’t do well with pretending and bathing in the shallow end of emotions.  I need to speak of things head on and know their respect for me.”  Elephant shared.  “We could be so much more.  We could have fun again.  It would be easy, really.”  “Discrimination!  Discrimination!”  He cried.

Please help the burdened elephant and further his cause.  He needs to roam and be free, not be enslaved by the blatant turning of backs and the snubbing of noses.  Even though he in fact has a built-in trunk, he really doesn’t carry much baggage.  He just needs to check what he’s carrying and be able to get back to the party of life.  “If you set me free,” Elephant added, “think about all the space you’ll get back.  Perhaps for that new sofa, perhaps for that big screen TV.”

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They’re Watching You

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Eyes.  They are brown, blue, green, or hazel.  They are slanted, round, wide, or narrow.  They are what they are.  They remain mostly unchanged from infancy through adulthood.  So why is it that those same eyes that look innocent, sweet, eager and full of life as a young child, somehow turn us into a completely different looking being altogether as we age?

A picture of 5 year old eyes is cheesy, as they openly laugh back.  A shot at 15, they are big and bold, wide open.  20, look out world, they know everything, confidence oozing.  A more settled set of eyes show changing disposition at 25.  30, a slightly more somber look staring a little further past the lens as reality moves in and sleep is scarcer.  The peepers grin a little bit more at 40 as they realize they shouldn’t take life so seriously.  Calmly they look back at the photographer at 50, basically ready to spend some time apart from the camera now.

Suddenly they pass by a mirror and wonder who they are looking at.  The imposters seem darker, hollowed, and sadder somehow.  The personality behind them still lives.  The seventeen year old still wants to come out to play.  So where is the mischief?  Why do they stare so far out?

The years that follow show some happiness, some sadness, some weakness.  Then somewhere around eighty, the teenager seems to show up again.  They seem younger despite the wrinkles, full of sparkle, a little weary perhaps, but the mischief is back.

What are your secrets dear eyes?  Did you figure out the meaning of life?  I look forward to seeing your beautiful, fun, familiar stare again that I once knew.  You are welcome to visit me sooner than later.

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