by Samantha Evans
A dear friend asked me not so long ago, ‘Why do some things feel so good?’ My worldly and somewhat cynical response was “Because all bad things do”. In the movie version of my life (does anyone else have a soundtrack at the ready?) I imagine I would be exhaling smoke rings and gazing whimsically off into the distance as I said those words ever so poignantly. Instead they fell out in between bites of Hawaiian pizza, lying on a somewhat grimy couch in said friend’s parents’ basement. Hey, all pearls of wisdom can’t come with an equally beautiful box. Pineapple and ham pies aside, the conversation got me thinking as to why the things that are good for you don’t taste so good, and the things that aren’t seem to be laced with crack cocaine because you can’t ever get enough.
I can list hundreds of things that tantalize the senses in a variety of ways that are inherently toxic to the self: smoking (all substances), trashy TV (RIP Al Bundy), drinking (the hard stuff), sex with an ex (or his best friend), food that is too salty or sweet…etc, etc. So basically, a good life is a bland one full of running marathons, watching the nature channel, drinking water, engaging in licit and predictable sexual relations and eating Brussels sprouts. In my 22 years of life I have come to redefine what is ‘good:’ good things are ones that bring contentment, even the short lived kind. This tends to land me in situations in which I find myself overindulging and over-confessing. This is when the good turns bad and bad becomes the ugly place which is oh-so ugly. It is the rare occasion when good is actually good with no catch attached. Exhibit A: Cadbury fashion shows which just GIVE you free booze, chocolate and chocolate-laced fashions simply because someone thinks you’re a media-somebody. It makes me wonder whether there is a heaven or if it will only let in those with a media pass. Take relationships: After the first big one, most lose the ability to be completely open and trusting. In other words, they start playing The Game (no, not Fiddy’s prodigy) and testing others’ threshold for bullshit. As it were, I may or may not have been ahead of the pack in that regard (though it took a musically-inclined chum to find Fiddy’s friend). But these d-bags are the ones we try to change, that we give ten chances to when they barely deserved the one. The good ones become the bad. So I will leave you with this trippy thought: Is it possible that the good and the bad are really just different sides to the same coin? Aaaahh, the hell with coins. I’ve always liked collecting dolla dolla bills more.
*I apologize… listening to Girl talk on repeat may be mashing up my thoughts to an incomprehensive state.