Zoom zoom zoom

I took immensely good care of my car at first. I washed it every week, made sure it was always vacuumed out and dusted. Never missed an oil change. If someone placed their purse or their bag or anything anywhere on it, I'd quickly pick it up and look at them like "What the fuck, man?" I'd be sure to park only in well-lit areas and hit the lock button two or three times when I left it – you know, just to be sure. And, I let no one else drive it. Then, I got in an accident. And my pretty shiny baby was no longer pretty nor shiny. Still drivable, I waited a couple of months to have it fixed. And the lag time was detrimental. I let the dirt and sand pile up in the back seats, the dash became spattered with dust, and the 3000-Mile oil change became an Eh-Whenever oil change. I took no notice when purses and keys and such were set on the hood. It was like this feeling of Its Already Damaged took over the car's existence. Suddenly I didn't feel the need to be cautious and careful, and I no longer worried about what was happening to this once prized possession.

I wonder, is this what happened to my heart, too? For years I held back, worried about the condition of it if certain things happened. I guarded and cared for it, kept it clean. I rarely let anyone else handle it. But then, after a collision, it became damaged. And suddenly there was no need to be cautious and careful. Where I once tread lightly with trepidation, I now turn off censorship and inhibition and stomp right on in. And, when hurt again, I no longer feel the "What the fuck, man?" affect. Instead it is replaced by the Eh-Whatever affect. To hell with well-lit safe areas – the sexiness of low-lit danger lures me. Afterall, there's no need to keep it pretty and shiny; you see, it's already damaged.

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Well, wasn't that depressing? It amazes me that I can write such sad shit even when I am so apparently happy. Because, believe me, baby – I am ha-appy. But I like this analogy up top and considered putting a positive spin on it to match my newfound elation. I was going to stress wise instead of damaged and confident instead of careless, but quite frankly positive just isn't quite as poetic. So fuck it, depressing is what you got. And you liked it, didn't you?

As I break my cardinal rule of never acknowledging that several people read this shit I'll add this: For those of you asking – I'll attempt to provide an entertaining NYC recap blog soon, I promise. I just gotta choose a good theme to focus it around – because, believe me, there are several suitable options. So check back soon.