Risqué

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Confession: Forgive me fellow bloggers, it has been *ahem*… a little over a month since I have published so much as a word. My seemingly rueful smirk is meant to be apologetic- it just never looks it. Oh well.

How now, reader? What say you? I say it would be an exaggeration to say that much has changed since my last post- so much in fact that it is literally an inconvenience to be writing these words? Ha! I wish, but no. Having said that though, a few changes have risen to the surface and are beginning to play out…in my hopelessly dramatic teenage life. Go figure. Perhaps in the past month I have become a national sensation, booming like the earthshaking speakers at some low budget rave…whosha! Or maybe my ability to dramatize a situation has plummeted or skyrocketed? Then again it just might be that my facial is somewhat thicker than it was four weeks prior.

I have, in my possession, a completely original theory- even though I have no doubt someone somewhere has thought of it- that states that the act of doing something risky, risqué, is the step in the right direction of a life worth living. I say that others have come to this conclusion because I was not born blind, nor am I blind now. They say that the best choices in life are the risky ones; the ones that either preserve or raze…the ones that shake the foundations of your mental state.

So your telling me that Destiny has a vagina and Free Will has a penis? I never thought that concepts or ideals such as these were gender specific- of course I am not all that surprised though…what isn’t gender specific these days? Yeah you ponder over that one. When you think about it, there is actually something to the whole Free Will being hung and Destiny’s cherry. Has it not always been this idea that men have some uncontrollable need to be rebellious; to cut their own path. Then there is the concept of women being submissive and willing to let an invisible force dictate the course of their past, present, and future. Therefore, the conclusion can be drawn that the hermaphrodites of society are the subjects of both Free Will and Destiny characteristics. Then somewhere in between the hermaphrodites and the two extreme alternatives lie the “normal” set of people. Emphasis on the quotations around normal.

So what does that make you and I? Are you an extreme? Am I? Are you a hermaphrodite? Am I? Or are you normal? Dumbstruck as I am, I am fascinated by other’s responses to the top three choices and where they believe they exist among these categories. To answer the looming question of where I place myself among these choices is fairly simple. I don’t.  I don’t have the feeling of normality in my bones, or an oppressive since of the extreme, and I am not one for a game of halfsies. I have a preference for risks, for leaping straight out of a comfortable situation into an unbearable one. My lack of normality swaths my ability to be completely and utterly random, humorous, and flamboyant. I find that a life without risks, is not a life at all. So at my own crack at rebellion I set my sights upon those things that society has deemed too “risky” or too unpredictable. When I do, all I can think is challenge accepted! And I do accept the challenge. I then conquer it while simultaneously laughing about my superiority and sucking on chicken bones.

In all sincerity though, life cannot be worth living if everything is hand-fed to you. So excuse me fellow bloggers, I have a moving train to jump in front of. Fingers crossed that I have courage to risk… well to just risk.