jueves, 22 de julio de 2010

Prozac nation

Emotional break downs are probably not such a rarity, yet I’m fairly certain I haven’t witnessed many….up until moving to the melodramatic capital of the world, where the water works run strong with estrogen, Prozac is considered candy and the streets are filled with the festering odour of emotional weakness. I have been forced to deal with the confused product of the casual mating of Spanish and Italian immigrants, combined with a Catholic reluctance to employ contraception.

A favorite arena for a decent melt down to be viewed is undoubtedly the workplace. A woman will often repeatedly smash her computer mouse on her desk without a moments thought for I.T resources, followed by a crescendo of female tears, which culminates in her being ushered out of the room to be fed “we’ve all been there” advice. The rest of us watch on with our halos of smugness, what a fool she is for displaying publically the contents of her pressured soul….she will regret it all, come tomorrow morning.

However, there is one experience that stands head and shoulders above the rest, the lantern that all future performances are advised to follow. It had uncontrollable shaking, the bottom jaw moving as if possessed. There was head banging and yet, for me, I shall frame forever the immortal words that came forth from her mouth as is if torn straight from the old testament or an American one man play:

“Oh God why??!! Why are you punishing me like this! I can’t carry on…I know I’ve broken hearts, it used to fun….yes, this is why you are punishing me…so DO IT! PUNISH ME GOD, PUNISH ME!”

Absolutely bloody brilliant, a quite fabulous demonstration of the histrionic gestures of the population and the innate fragility of a nation. My face offered the soft, understanding eyes of the shrink she so needed, yet my mind echoed rich, colonial laughter…
“God was not initially planning on punishing you, nor is he now, I expect he’s rolling around in the clouds crying with uncontrollable laughter, though with time I would expect this to be replaced by an overwhelming shame at the lackluster job he did when making you,” I mused.

2 comentarios:

  1. are "female tears" something like

  2. "all that powder on ya face...you look like a clown"