Chloroform: (n) a sweet-smelling anesthetic.
I am a phony.
I’m hoping that if I admit it, I won’t have to be accosted by the critics who discover it.
Here is where my phoniness comes to the forefront: I often think about matters which I insist would be intriguing, but if offered the opportunity, I’d turn it down.
This came to my mind this morning when I looked at the word “chloroform.” I have watched television shows where a character has placed this chemical on a
handkerchief, covering the nose of an enemy, putting him or her into a deep sleep.
While viewing this I have thought to myself, I wonder what that’s like? Is there any pain, discomfort, hangover or headache that would accompany the experience? I am intrigued.
Yet if somebody walked into the room and asked, “Would you like to find out what it’s like to go under?” I would pass.
Any number of situations would fall into this pattern.
- “I am interested.”
- “Here you are.”
- “No, thanks.”
It’s not that I’m a coward. I actually consider myself to be very adventurous. But it’s much easier to envision myself brave than it is to prove it in the courtroom of human events.
I occasionally watch people jumping out of an airplane and wonder if I would actually do it.
It’s ridiculous. Unless the plane was on fire and twelve feet from the ground, I would remain within.
I have avoided friendships, romantic encounters and probably passed up on a good deal or two simply because I could not pull the trigger at the right moment.
I don’t lack experience; I am not a novice. It’s just that in selected moments, I was a coward.
Or maybe I should call myself an “over-stater.”
Yes. That sounds better: “That fellow really over-states his interest level.”
And since I have grown weary of being quite this vulnerable, I shall stop my typing and chloroform this article.