Electric Fence

Over the course of the past 10 years of my life, I've had this fucking animal living inside my fathers place. Most would classify him as a dog, but I think he's some rare breed of palpable, tangible misery sent to reassure us that life outside of these walls is actually really awesome.

He's a terrorist. He has inherited a sort of intelligence that is only useful for destruction and ravaging and being utterly annoying. We've had to buy new refrigerators because the last ones, he figured out how to get into. Sprawled out hundreds of dollars of food across furniture and carpets and doesn't have the common decency to even eat it all. There are starving children mother fucker. That pound of butter you left to melt in front of the television could have fattened up an entire Asian country. Or at least been used for my toast... Shit.

We've constructed barricades to rooms, moved the garbage behind secret doors, even went as far as to put an ELECTRIC FENCE between the dining room and the kitchen... and the bathroom... and the front door- because yes, he figured out how to open the god damn doors too. And occasionally, he would extend his gracious hurricane of savagery on the innocent throughout the neighborhood.

He is the definition of every derogatory statement I can think of. Fuck him.

So this morning, as I woke up to the sound of tables being turned over and the entire middle floor being reconstructed, I took a deep breath, gave my self a pep talk to not choke him Homer Simpson style, and went down stairs to clean up the inevitable wreck he had left for me.

There he was, standing over shredded cardboard and toilet paper rolls, growling like a child who knew he had done something wrong.

I began to sing to him. I had just gotten done listening to some good old Miss Perri, so it was in tune with 'Jar of Hearts', except this version was just a tangent freestyle of how much I hate him. I suck at freestyling. I've just started to grasp the concept of putting words on beat with music though, so I started rambling off at him and somewhere along the lines I said

" You are too close but I like you to be too far,
I hate that you fuckin look exactly the way you are."

I like that last line. I truly do hate things that look the way they are on the inside. I want a surprise. I want a car that looks like 1980 but drives like it was made yesterday. I want a girl who looks more simple than she really is. Or a girl who looks more complex than she really is. Or just a girl in general would be rad... Anyway..

I expect surprises because I know that's what you'll get if you actually take the time to get close to me and see what I'm about.

I've struggled with image issues most of my adolescent and adult life. Thats right, a guy with image issues. Mine are different than you're probably envisioning though; mine aren't about the size of my thighs or my eye brows or my teeth not being straight enough. No, mine are issues with first impressions. I'll give you an example:

Thats me. Now, this isn't the most true picture I could find. Not one of the ones that I would say 'shows my personality'. But it is one that shows the image I give off. And the reaction I usually receive back when I meet someone, if its not with a smile, is that they're not sure if I'm going to rob them or not. To keep me at a distance because with a mug like this, who knows what I'm capable of.

However, as much as that picture is me, its not. This is not who I am. This is not the way I act or the way I want to be approached. I don't want to fight you. I dont want to steal your purse. I dont want to rape you when your drunk.

I like hugs. I cried when I watched the Notebook for the first time. Actually, I cry a lot. Period. I teach myself dance moves for fun. I listen to those who need the ears. I love MY dog (not the one I mentioned above, he can suck it). I am a sensitive, lovable gangster who just happens to look like someone I'm not.

I started running through my database of friends afterward, thinking about the outside reflecting the inside. It made me feel good that I'm not alone. So many of the people I know get the same reaction, the same judgment, the same 'damn, you look terrifying' when really, on the inside, they are cushiony stuffed animals. Or vice versa. Some of my friends get the 'damn, your sexy' when really, on the inside, they are far from it. On either end of the spectrum, this is what I appreciate.

What scares me are the animals and creatures that somehow manage to look exactly the way they are. I will always give you the benefit of the doubt, but if you are beautiful... and the inside you is beautiful, I will be endlessly confused by you. Or intrigued. Likewise, if you are nasty on the outside, and nasty on the inside... I will wonder why you haven't noticed this.

We like surprises. But not ones that involve garbage tossed around rooms that were meant to be left tidy and clean. Surprise me by being the opposite of what I would expect. Shatter my judgment. Make me question my intuition. Make the need for a electric fence around my heart unnecessary. And show me, and yourself, that you are capable of being more than the image you wear.