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ramblings from a plastic surgery culture… and i do mean ramblings.

ramblings from a plastic surgery culture… and i do mean ramblings.

i think this is simply going to be a commentary, on life i guess, but random… as life should be. i have no clue what i am going to write about, but here goes.

as i sat back at a random coffee show in the middle of LA i saw a rather large car pull up in front. out came the driver who i later assumed was the daughter, she looked too compassionate and genuine  to be hired. the elderly lady in the back was helped up and began to walk rather slowly into the cafe’. but there was something peculiar about this woman, you see her legs were obviously frail; i deducted this by the slow walking pace and rather alarmingly turtle like cruise control that she put upon her own two legs. but her face. it caught me by surprise, and it wasn’t a second glance look like a car accident or the likes, it was a solid wide eyed mouth open second glance. her face and neck had been, well hollywooded. her lips tripled the size of mine in weight and stature. her face was so pulled back i expected to see skin and not hair on the back of her head. her neck looked as though the driver was restraining it, or trying to choke her neck behind her. all in all her face looked half the age of her body. but who was she fooling, the skin on her arms looked more like a map of new york city subway system and less fitting to her face. which i guess is the point.  which is a rather mute point at a certain point in life. i am not trying to criticize, i’m simply wondering how much of our lives is a front to hide our insecurity’s. how much is what we participate in a front for keeping up with the image we think we need. we as white washed tombs, on the outside we may look holy, but on the inside lie dead men’s bones. why are you in that job? is this really what you wanted to be doing with your life, or is it just for the tittle, distinction, or the possessions what you earn will afford. are these your dreams? or are you pretending for the notoriety it might someday bring. “you are not your khaki’s”,  

flying is a rather tedious percentage of my career, but i am in no way complaining. i remember when i was a kid that i had counted the number of times i had flown on a makeshift calender and lost count after 37 or so, which for a kid is less of a number than a fact you can bring up in show and tell. i don’t know why a lot of us have this “wunder lust” or wander lust as ‘meine mutter’ puts it. its just the fact that this world is smaller than it was for our parents and i actually have the opportunity to see it. for a nominal fee i can fly to places that a family could live out their days on the cost of the airline ticket to get there… which is not the point. the point is i don’t understand why we don’t travel more, maybe it is fear of the unknown, or pickpockets, or whatever. either way its a beautiful world out there, and honestly one seems more attractive to the opposite sex when you can say hello in a couple different language. which is the point.

the point to what…. i wonder if we could reproduce asexually what would be considered worthwhile and meaningful in this world. people drive nice cars to impress people, we want to impress people so they notice us, we want to be notices for attention, we want attention so that one day we could gain their affection, we like affection because it brings emotional attachment, we want emotional attachment cause that gets us… well to reproduce. in college i made this elongated chart which brought everything in life back to reproduction. sad, yes, but true. why did the old lady get plastic surgery, true she did not want to reproduce, but she wanted all the extra curricular that comes along with it. she wanted to be adored, affection, attachment, etc. think about it, you don’t see grandpa reading GQ or men’s vogue, because he does not care. the farther from reproduction the farther one becomes to fitting in, or trying to impress the opposite sex. at  this point I’m rambling but for those who sit down and think about this central theme of the world revolving around ‘genetic donation’ the more this world becomes seemingly depressing. but not really. its life. its random and frustrating at moments.

face lifts on airplanes, might sell well in this country!

“lifts on the lift” quick, someone patent it.

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