The Tired and True

I have knack for the overdone.  All those catchy tunes that get stuck in brains, play on loops and drive people nuts, those are the songs that seek refuge in my head and on my page.  My muse is a washed-up, old hooker: cheap, ugly, and been done a few more than a few times too many.

Upon hearing the word "cliche," those with an ounce of doubt in them tend to immediately shrug off what is being said as irrelevant, unimportant and even untrue.  I find this outlook as sad as it is cynical for in it's purest form, the cliche is beautiful, beuatiful thing.  A cliche is a lesson that is so true it once had to be repeated over and over again until eventually it became accepted as obvious (as if it were always obvious) and then people had the nerve to actually get sick of hearing it.  Sick, as in, "if I hear that cliche one more time, I will probably puke all over the place."  The first time we hear a cliche we suck the life from its very tit of truth for years and years until the truth dries up and we have to stick that crusty old bag of truth in a old truth's home where the nurses are abusive and the bingo's rigged.  I for one think it's absolutely atrocious the way we treat our elderly truths.   Sure they get tired and frustrating, but a tired truth is still a true truth regardless of whether or not you're "over it." Are you hearing me you ungrateful little bastards?

Consider that my three forms of government-approved, photo ID should I ever unwittingly tread into the hostile territory of "Ugh, that has so been done before." I don't care if it smells like death and bedpans, I'll do the done-before as many times as many times as I damn well please because it makes me feel good sometimes in a familiar and comforting way.  The judgmental can stick that in their peace pipes and suck hard; may its fumes mellow them the fuck out.

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I apologize, dear reader.  That bitch-out was not directed at the general public.  It was actually all aimed at the mirror, though if it's applicable to anyone out there with their nose up in the air and their head up in their ass feel free to let it ride.  I generally don't condone judging other people's happiness.

Have you ever written something down because at the time it feels so absolutely true only to re-read it later and think to yourself God do I sound tacky.  If not tacky, then possibly stupid, preachy, or pretentious.  Choose your own adventure.  

Over the last week, some of the morals from my Aesop's Fitness Fables have included: 'Complaining does no one any good,' 'it is important to be a good role model,' and 'if you just adjust your attitude, a little hard work can be super-dooper fulfilling.'  Dear Lord, I see where this is going.  In 142 days I'm gonna log onto this blog and say, "See guys?  If you put your mind to it, you can do anything!"  My gag-reflex heaves at the thought of it, and yet this is me formally acknowledging the distinct possibility that I, NJ Anonymous, may be little more than a two-bit, commonplace, everyday, ordinary, nauseatingly typical cliche.  And to that I say...

So fucking what?  What's true is vaild and what's valid is true, even if it's valid for only a moment, even if it's true for only me.  Cliches are true for centuries and if they're not true for you then I guarantee that they are at least true on some level for dozens of your loved ones.  The only way that's not a possibility is if you are unfortunate enough to love no one but yourself, in which case you have every bit of my hackneyed pity.  Get it?  Got it.  Fan-damn-tastic.

Light workout today.  It is, after all, Superbowl Sunday.

P.S.  What group of self-respecting athletes dresses in yellow spandex, tackles other men all day, then calls themselves "the Packers" like no one's gonna notice?  I'd insult them but it'd just be too easy.  Go Steelers.

Happy day 8.

Thanks for reading.  See you tomorrow.