A Many-Splendored Thing

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“Love is a many-splendored thing, love.” And it is. Though, it is also a very painful thing. My theory is this, love is as great as the risk involved. And oftentimes, that risk becomes a nightmarish reality. I believe that with each and every relationship, whether socially simple or invigoratingly intimate, there is, respectively, a certain amount of risk. It’s as if we begin each association by handing the other an emotional knife, capable of cutting us to the core. The only safety then, is distance.

Most people are well aware of these inherent dangers whether consciously or not. And it is for this very reason that one might shun any and all intimacy or even mild friendships. They’ve allowed some to get close in the past, and are still reeling from the pain. Sure, they may heal eventually, but as the cliché goes, “the scars remain”.

Having had cancer in my spine, I have two enormous scars on my midsection. One wraps from my frontal center to my center back. The other runs the length of my spine. Both of the surgeon’s incisions healed over two decades ago, yet when I stretch in certain ways, the scars feel as if they’re tearing. I immediately recoil, fearing the scars may reopen. The possibility seems absurd, but the reaction is involuntary – a knee-jerk.

Many feel the same way emotionally. Their unseen scars run the deepest of all and when flexed a certain way, whether by love or simply friendship, they relive the former pain and recoil, fearing the scars may reopen. The possibility seems absurd, but the reaction is involuntary.

Today, on Valentine’s Day, I want to encourage those with scars to try once more. The irony is that love is the very thing that heals a broken heart. Yes, it is painful, but it is also a many-splendored thing.

An Ode to Taco Bell

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Hard taco or soft? Gordita or chalupa? Crunchwrap or nacho supreme? These are the decisions that plague a man addicted to Taco Bell. And as if to laugh in my face, the franchise just won’t rest. Every quarter they’re contriving something new, innovative, and breathtaking. They’ve infiltrated my TV and Twitter, my email and Facebook. And as though my life wasn’t loco enough, they’ve convinced me to give their newfangled Mexican delight a try. Sure enough, I’m taken aback, utterly amazed at the endless creations they contrive. Shall I mention the supplemental sauces? Whether medium or mild, fire or verde, they improve what I once thought impossible. At what point will they stop? Do they not understand contentment? Always desiring more, they relentlessly pursue fresh fiestas, delectable discoveries, and  new narcotics. It is a tenacity I fear, yet admire; brace for, yet long to embrace. Taco Bell, I love you.

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