I wish more things in life weren’t like pomegranates. Pomegranates are difficult. They’re hard to crack, hard to eat, hard to enjoy. They require real effort, deliberately focused repetitive energy. They require motivation. They require commitment. Sure, there’s a payoff there, a pearl of life-refreshing juice. But there’s just too much you have to go through to get to that point. You have to cut and score the skin, you have to break the membrane apart, you have to pick the seeds out one by one, you have to filter and strain, you have to rinse, and THEN, only then, do you get to eat. And it might be great, it might be life changing, it might even be a tropical fruit orgasm for your mouth, but DAMN, it was a lot of work. Too much work. Just like success in life. Fuck that noise. I’m off that.
I don’t want to work for success. I just want it. There. Delivered to me for doing whatever it was I happened to be doing. I just want the pleasure of enjoying the fruit, not the fruits of my labor. I want to be that lucky bastard who got straight to the pomegranate seed without dealing with the skin first. And be honest, you know you want that too. Sure you can work really hard, you can study and perfect, you can practice, you can plan and execute, you can master your craft. You can do all those things you need to do to succeed, and you might, might, get there, to that promised locked, away burst of treasure juice. Or you might not. Maybe by the time you get there, it’s gone bad, you know? Or maybe, the whole journey, the trials and tribulations, wiped away your desire to get there in the first place? Or maybe, the effort is just too much, and you never make it at all. And then what?
So let me just have this one. Just nod to yourself and go, “Yup, good post”. Give it a big ole fucking gold star. Just don’t ask me to put more effort into this. Don’t make me sell it to you. Don’t make me share it. Don’t make me work. Just let me exist in minimal effort, collecting praise for a job done. Who cares if I did it all that well? Who cares if I spent time editing, revising sentences, carving excess marble away, reducing down to the perfect blend of punctuation and word? Who really cares? Maybe you do. But that pomegranate sure doesn’t. And I sure don’t. So maybe my first sentence was wrong? That decision is up to you.