Aristotle was a stately man when dealing with rhetoric and poetics, combating the puristic Sophist beliefs of virtuous (and might I say distasteful) discourse. Little did he know, though, that since the 4th century BC, the 21st-ers have taken it to an all new extreme.
What classifies an honest man?
Society today has learned to manipulate any, if not all, modes of communication in an attempt to save face, in an attempt to get face, and in an attempt to hide the it's-two-in-the-morning-and-I'd-like-to-go-to-sleep-even-though-we're-in-Vegas face.
After a quick trip six hours down the I-15, the grammatically correct trio made it to the City of Sin, and might I say it continues to uphold its reputation, if the "Girls, Girls, Girls!" men on the corner didn't already scream the notion enough. You wonder how many people, especially here, are telling the truth, even with the most elementary of interrogations.
"What's your name? How old are you, really? How many kids*?"
But in turn, how many people can actually be trusted? Even sharing your first initial causes worriment to some, afraid of a reenactment of Scream-meets-The-Hangover. But then again, there's the mass social networking tool of Facebook, where I'm more than positive that it's the largest stalking agency to date. So on a comparative level, Vegas is just a flashy, nude version of the website, and I'd like to think that both contain strategic false impressions.
I'm not ragging on the town, however, should that be the ideological assumption made, because a lot of good came out of a place characterized by a lot of bad. A friend had stated prior to the trip that company triumphs even the most mediocre of places, and he was right. Meatloaf is more than just a loaf of meat, kissing a smoker isn't always like licking an ashtray**, and gambling two dollars was as disheartening as predicted are all things I've recently learned, along with taking a step closer in understanding just what it is that I want.
While away on our vacation, I was going back and forth on a job offer in Alaska. During the interview, the woman asked me several expected questions, your typical figuring-out-if-you're-not-a-creeper inquisitions, and then stopped me at one.
"Where do you see yourself in five years?"
At first I let out a laugh. I didn't know how to respond, and on top of that, didn't know how I would frame the statement in such a way to entice her attention.
I stuttered a bit, and finally blurted something out along the lines of, "Is this a trick question?" I have always been asked what I wanted to do with my life, and it seems as though the response consistently changes. How could any one person give a surefire answer? I decided to give it a shot.
"At the end of the day, I want to be enjoying what I'm doing, and doing it well."
I'm not sure if that's what she wanted to hear, but I hoped she'd appreciate my strong taste for honesty. Aristotle was surely shaking in his grave at my discontinuance of rhetoric, yet as more and more time passes, I'm figuring out that being me is all I have to give, and with that comes a little bit of sarcasm, a little bit of laughs, and a lot of realness.
I'm real, and it's comforting in knowing that, even in the 21st century.
Although flashing lights and glitzy (abhorrent) glamor draws you in, Vegas spits you out with a bit of insight, believe it or not. I suppose this means that what happens there, doesn't necessarily stay there.
Viva!
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*And how old - very important question.
**Not from personal experience.
