Debt

Debt: (n) something that is owed or that one is bound to pay to or perform for another

I am trying to determine if I remember if there was any measurable amount of sincerity in me at all.

I’m talking about that first moment, when I was nineteen years old and sat down in a car dealership to buy a five-hundred-dollar, old, beat-up van that formerly was used by the telephone company.

I was so anxious to get this vehicle that I probably would have sacrificed four days in heaven.

I know there was a salesman who was explaining payments, rates of interest—and also that the green-monster-wagon was being sold “As Is.”

I vaguely recall seeing his lips move as my glazed eyes peered over his shoulder at the prize.

I think maybe I was somewhat aware that since I put no money down, that my payments were going to be sixty dollars or so a month for the next year-and-a-half.

Yet I cannot swear to you that any awareness of these factors was actually registered by me, but instead, were later thrown up to me by the collection agency when it taunted me about my promise to make monthly payments.

I think there was a part of me that really thought I was going to try to make good on the debt.

I don’t know how.

I had no visible income.

I was negotiating my quarters and nickels to buy a pound of bologna a day with a loaf of bread and an apple.

I drove fifteen miles every other day to get free day-old doughnuts from my buddy who worked at the “Dunkin’ Something-or-Other.”

But there must have been some little piece of hopeful legitimacy that envisioned sixty dollars being made available for a monthly installment—even if I believed that a bird was going to fly it in from the Bank of Heaven.

Of course, it’s also possible that I was just an irresponsible teenager who couldn’t look beyond the temptation and couldn’t care less about my responsibilities.

Yet I sure do like that bird idea.

 

Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

Cross my heart and hope to die: (v) to attest to the truth of something

The human race is known for two things: first, being created in the image of God; and second, being a bunch of goddamn liars.

Within the elevation of these two bracing points, we are suspended between heaven and Earth.

Because of this, when we need to express our deepest sincerity to others, we don’t seem capable of just saying, “Yes, this is true,” or “No, it is not.”

We fear that our human audience, being fully aware of the vicious nature of deceit which inhabits us all, will just naturally assume that we are one of the “Fibber McGees.”

So we have introduced words, like “sincerely, honestly” and “trust me” into our language, hoping that in doing so, the true depth of our veracity will shine through.

It doesn’t.

So over our history, we’ve initiated other thoughts to try to prove that we are on the level. Basically, we’ve started swearing. Not profanity. No—deep-rooted promises to back up our premises.

  • “I swear by my mother’s grave.”
  • “I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles.”
  • “I swear by my pinky finger.”

Or, “Cross my heart and hope to die.”

I guess this last one sounded effective to someone, thinking that threatening to remove one’s life from Earth might keep us from lying and cheating.

Of course, in reality, nothing prevents us from stretching the truth until it breaks and falls at our feet like useless trash.

So I think the suggestion that came along—to swear, make huge statements and crossing our heart and hoping to die—should probably just be replaced by a more old-fashioned dodge:

“Now what was the question?”

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Coy

Coy: (adj) slyly hesitant.

 Impersonation or imitation?

The two words are basically synonyms, yet many folks would insist that an impersonation is clever or entertaining, whereas an imitation might be insulting.

At least, that’s my take on it. I wonder why.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Because certainly there are things that can be impersonated or imitated which are humorous or even necessary. For instance, if we have to take a test, we have to impersonate someone who’s knowledgeable.

Yet impersonations or imitations are not always flattering, and worse, they can be downright deceiving.

I found this to be very true, especially when dealing with the subject of humility. I will say that try as you will, you will never be able to impersonate a humble person nor imitate humility and still maintain sincerity.

This is mainly because we choose to be humble when we are flirting with disgrace instead when of celebrating victory.

This is what makes us coy.

I get nervous around people who think they’re being coy. I feel cheated. I think they are trying to avoid presenting their real selves, and instead, substituting what might resemble honest.

I don’t like it when parents tell me their children are shy. Can I question that? They don’t appear shy to me. They seem sheltered. They often have the whiff of conceited. And occasionally, one might even pick up some judgment in their distracted stare.

Coy is a tough one for me.

I am always afraid that someone who is trying to visually present him or herself as humble is merely waiting for an opportunity to dominate me when I least expect it. Donate Button


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Coloration

Coloration: (adj) a specified pervading character or tone of something.

Maybe Paul Simon was right in his song, “Kodachrome.” Everything looks worse in black and white.

That certainly was in the mind of those individuals who started adding color to movies.

I remember the first time I watched “It’s a Wonderful Life” with color enhancement. I don’t know if I was in an obsessive mood or if the hues were not true, but
during the final scenes, I kept wondering why Jimmy Stewart (Mr. George Bailey) was wearing a lavender shirt.

I tried to keep my mind off of it, but there was a portion of me that just believed that a mauve color on that character was odd.

In like manner, when I watch television and they talk to me about “color commentary”–adding coloration to the news–it always surprises me that their choices are orange, crimson and fuchsia.

There was a certain warmth to black and white movies–the sniff of sincerity. Maybe it was the simplicity of believing we were getting the truth handed to us in black and white.

Sometimes color is just color–and not enlightening.

And often coloration is a fear of taking something that might seem drab and energizing it with joy.

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