Requiem for a Seam

2008-01-11

Many a picture there is. Many an image, thought, and memory depicting my carefree raggedness. A torn shirt here, a threadbare favorite from fourth grade there. And all adding up to who I was: a walking requiem for seams.

It's been my persona and aura for as long as I've known what those words have meant (6th grade, english class). But I am writing this somewhat paratactic, somewhat halting post to inform you that the glory days are over. The long drawn out siege of adulthood has gradually taken it's toll, and now, just as the noble blood of Isildur had it's last great hurrah with Aragorn, I find myself staring at the sudden end of an era (20 bonus points for those who get that reference without going to wikipedia.)*

Let me be specific: I find myself wanting to dress well. I have night terrors about ill-fitting shirts with wrinkled surfaces and warped collars; day dreams of perfect-fit polos that bring out my eyes.** All and all, i'm sure it's a most natural and healthy trend, but, between you and me blog reader, I lament the carefreeness of my past life. For all that I might look better now, I can't help but think i'm somehow lesser. Like the wild wolf turned faithful companion, I may be more cuddly, but I am distinctly less awesome. I mean, sure, Ekindu was mighty helpful to Gilgamesh once civilized, but he also become kinda whinny and lame.

So in conclusion: I offer this short (yet potent) poem as a testimony to days soon ended.

Fare thee well wrinkled life with your charmingly mismatched colors.  Goodbye golden years of faded hues and misused blues that blatantly clashed with each other. Enter order, symmetry, and shirts freshly clean. Retreat past life and fade, wave,
Becoming a forgotten requiem for seams.

* The Candy Coating bonus points are not redeemable for anything, ever.
** This is patently untrue.