(by Pete Lopez. Read his blog Road to Absolute Zero.)
Before penning this, I came to the conclusion that I needed a heroic essay to fall from grace. If all my written output was considered elite literature, then none of it could rise and stand above. If I'm only preparing grade A steaks, their supreme flavor starts losing value. My writing menu needs an article of spam, a side chapter of vegetables and a thesis of leftovers on it as well. Once in a while, I need to lower to the salad bar so that when I offer prime beef work, you can still notice how tender it is.
With that said, I must prohibit consistently being consistent from prohibiting my stuff to stick out. On purpose I am going to purposely make this written piece of writing suck like a sucker to ruin my reliable streak of reliability. That will stop and prevent a crowd from over crowding at the top of the top and free some free space for my other pieces that are not this one, to brightly sparkle a bit brighter.
Since the above proves that this essay is deliberately taking a dive, a plausible reader’s reaction would sound similar to this. “Upon these new set of circumstances, that nonsensical masterpiece I read yesterday was damn entertaining. I lost track of what a marvelous author Pete Lopez was because everything he composed was a diamond. After suffering through this rough, I hope his next submission to R2AZ regains that superior shine I mistakenly took for granted. I promise to do a better job of stopping to enjoy the roses, which are his words.”
To break it down further, I draw a comparison to the propaganda of ‘Mom says to always look your best’. If I took adequate time to fancy myself up every morning, the overall result would make me appear rather generic. There would be slight variations from day to day depending on pimples, the angle of the part in my hair or the number of inches of my heels but nothing that would distinguish me on a daily basis. After a month of monotony, people would stop accounting for my fantastically awesome looks.
Wow, after years of it uselessly hibernating, I can include something I learned as an economics major in college, the Law of Diminishing Returns. Loosely translated, if you wear the same type of shit everyday regardless of the brand quality or thread count, people will care less and less as time carries on. To combat regularity, if a couple of times a week I intentionally head to work in a less groomed manner, people would closely monitor my appearance. Like they say in the media, there is no bad publicity. Although a worn down version of me sheds a negative light, it's still in the office spotlight.
Well, I am not going to sugar coat that this technique will offer instant praise. Arriving at the office with an appearance that questions if I am homeless, is not immune to a spattering of, “Wow Pete you're looking lousy and smelling of day old alcohol today. What the hell were you doing on a Tuesday night?”
As a whole, I do swear that the compliments gathered will greatly exceed the amount of detrimental remarks. When the flattery arrives on days I tidy up, a minuscule part resulted from shock but the majority of the acclaim was from everyone recalling, just how attractive I am. Who doesn’t like compliments? Well it surely won't happen if I only dress like a financial robot. Not only do I have to remind people every so often that I am breathtaking, I must occasionally rip that sensation away......to be continued
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