Whatever happened to Passion? Today’s greenhouse-like society apparently isn’t interested in doing much else than morbid existence.
Speaking of greenhouse, I used to think global warming was a myth but thanks to my National Geographic subscription, I now realize it’s stark reality. At the rate the polar icecaps are melting, it seems we might need to brush up on our swimming no-skills coz there might be water everywhere in a few short decades. Land now constitutes 33% or so of the world’s surface? Sh*t, think more like 20% in a few.
Much to my amazement, I’m becoming more and more a tree-hugger. I find myself doing stuff like gassing the whip up after dark or early in the morning to reduce my contribution to smog. After taking my Environmental class I now recycle, even. I nowadays find myself frowning over people flicking cigarette butts out their car windows instead of disposing of them in their ashtrays, and shake my head at people fighting through traffic in their gas-guzzling SUVs. And I damn near have a coronary whenever I see an oil spill, thinking about the oil seeping through the ground into the water table, and somehow finding its way into my tap water. Damn you National Geographic, damn you!
[Just kidding. I’d rather know about this sh*t than be oblivious.]
But I was talking about passion, or lack thereof. Passion makes the world go round, they say, and I’m inclined to agree. For instance, why do we go to work? I’m sure the vast majority of us loathe our jobs, but that bi-weekly or monthly paycheck makes it all better; we’re passionate about the paper-chase. Why do we men chase after women all the time, and vice-versa? All because of passion, not love. Love just makes passion safer; kinda like keeping potassium immersed in kerosene to prevent its otherwise volatile affinity toward oxygen or water or in this case, women or men.
Passion is the feeling my boy V^6 gets when he drifts around the intersection in that hellraiser of a GTi. Passion is what my lil’ cousin feels when he’s holding a double-scoop of chocolate ice cream, or how his elder brother goes insane when Wade goes up for that dunk. Passion is the feeling D gets when she sees those boys from the Navy, or what my boy Ura feels when he sees that 64-bit processor with a 2000MHz FSB. Passion is my girl CK listening to Reggae, or my boss going in to work by . Passion is yours truly watching Gigi Galli put that Lancer through the motions, and being foolish enough to try and emulate him move for move.
What’s your passion?