Life's a movie, and the director has little strings on everything

I had a weird moment tonight. My parents had bought a pie- Key Lime- because my dad has this running joke about key lime pie. Back in the day, my mom would make a meal, we'd all eat it, and my dad would say, that was great, but I wish I had some key lime pie. It was kind of insulting, when you think about it, but he thought it was funny. Basically we laughed with him. He had stopped for a year or so (actually, I dunno, I was at school) but then he started up again. (when I started cooking) So my mom was buying a pie, so she bought a key lime pie, to keep the joke alive. Ha ha ha!

They had some friends over, they ate half the pie. I am not a pie sort of guy- I'm kind of at this phase now where I want to make sure I get in good shape. I want to be physically fit enough to:
- ski all day, even with some hiking to the top of hills, and then play racquetball*
- bike an arbitrarily large number of miles
- climb a mountain. I'm talking an overnight camping hike/climb up a mountain.
- do my age in chin-ups (almost there! I can do 15 on a good day)
- steadily increase general weightlifting capabilities until I am more "lean" than "skinny"
- never be overweight due to personal laziness


This is largely because I have no reason not to be in good shape. I'm 19, live in the nicest place in the world, and have every fitness opportunity within a half mile of my house. I go grocery shopping once a week, my parents don't even care what I get. I'm not a single working mother or anyone who's ridiculously stressed and has no time to exercise. If I'm out of shape, it's my own damn fault... so I better not be.

*This occurred last December, during my trip to the Rockies with Pete. Story may follow in a later post.

Anyway, they had this pie. I had some friends over too; after they left, I had a little sliver of pie, just to taste it. That's my policy with desserty food: my desire to be ridiculously healthy can't override my desire to try everything in the world, so I tried a bit of it. It was very good. The pie was the delicious meringuey creamy consistency, it was sweet with the perfect amount of lime taste. The graham cracker crust tasted like a cookie; the frosting on top just added a little extra sweetness. It was good. So I go to put the pie back

and the whole thing splats on the floor.

It was monstrous. Pie all over the front of the fridge, the bulk of it on the floor. If there had been a city living on top of the pie, this would be Hiroshima. It was a pie disaster.

And then, like in a movie, I just felt like I had to eat some of it. (not the part that's touching the floor... you know, the part that never actually made floor contact.) So I just took a handful of splatted pie, and ate it. Well sure, it was really tasty. Then I took some more, and more. Between handfuls I would wash my hands, like okay, I'm done, and then, well wait, I think I'll go get a bit more. It wasn't even an issue- this pie was on the floor, and it HAD TO BE EATEN BY ME. NOW. I wasn't thinking "I'll eat more because it's tasty," I was thinking "I'm not me; I'm the character playing me. In the script, Dan Tasse eats the pie on the floor... so that's what I'll do." It was ridiculous. And gluttonous too, of course.

This scene was the one where the son of very poor parents, who worked his way up to a job making $50,000 a year, and has lived very frugally, in a small house with his newlywed wife, only buying what they need so they can save for their kids and their retirement, where he just stops on the way home from work one day and buys a 70 inch plasma TV. A new computer, new camcorder, new stereo system... he keeps dumping stuff into the cart, with this vacant stare, checking out with $20,000 worth of equipment that he doesn't need or even want, but he's just buying it, just because... because... why?? he doesn't even know! but he is!

The scene where the mild-mannered high school senior, the nicest kid in the school, no enemies, he's not bullied, straight-A student, gets followed around by the little nerd. The one who just doesn't have any friends his age because he's socially inept, so he follows around this paragon of high school benevolence. The senior just punches this little twerp in the face, and then he can't stop, he's just wailing on the kid, he doesn't hate him, he just keeps hitting him, there's blood everywhere, huge commotion, no resistance, the punches make the sickening muted "thud"s that punches really make, no movielike "bam"s or "crunch"es, just thud, thud, thud...

So I'm being overdramatic. It wasn't that at all, it was that on a much smaller scale. I kept eating the pie, and then I cleaned up what was left (the part that had made floor contact). But I felt as if I were the $50k worker or the high school senior. It's the gluttony of it all, the "why am I doing this?!" sensation. At the same time, it was a little bit thrilling.

Ever drive down the highway, and think, I am just six inches from killing myself and probably innocent others? Just move your hands maybe 6 inches on the steering wheel, and unspeakable disaster. Or even other times: you're at a meeting with a professor. You could punch him in the face in under three seconds, and your life would completely change: expelled from the university, arrested for assault, etc. Even more when you walk by a cop and think "I could pull his gun out of his holster." Not that you'd ever do any of that, but the fact is, you could. In under a minute, you could throw away your entire life's accomplishments: the ultimate gluttony. Because I think gluttony is not doing what you like too much; it's doing it so that you don't like it anymore, it's that bizarre "why am I doing this?!" feeling that you would get if you stole the cop's gun and shot people with it. And gluttony in eating a pie off the floor is similar to gluttony in destroying your life and everyone's around you, and reminding yourself how precariously close you are to that edge is just a little little morbidly intriguing.

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Hey, melodrama. Interesting? Warped? Well, yeah. But do you know what I mean?