Occasionally Mac scribbles something in her journal that makes me smile...
One of my college Psych professors claimed that every choice we make in life revolves around our desire to acquire a single thing: sex.
He argued that it was a primitive, unalterable biological imperative (thereby excusing the human race our frequent idiocy?) He said that, from the clothing a person selected in the morning, to the food they shopped for, to the entertainment they sought, at the very root of it all, was our single-minded goal of attracting a mate and getting laid.
I thought he was a jackass, raised a manicured hand and told him so with lofty disdain. He challenged me to rebut. Mac 1.0 couldn’t.
But Mac 4.0 can.
Sure, a lot of life is about sex. But you have to pull up high, and look down on the human race with a bird’s-eye view to see the big picture, a thing I couldn’t do when I was nineteen and pretty in pink and pearls. Shudder. Just what kind of mate was I trying to attract back then? (Don’t expect me to analyze Mac 4.0’s predilection for black and blood. I get it, and I’m perfectly fine with it.)
So, what’s the big picture about our lust for sex?
We‘re not trying to acquire something. We want to feel something: Alive. Electrically, intensely, blazingly alive. Good. Bad. Pleasure. Pain. Bring it on--all of it.
For people who live small, I guess enough of that can found in sex.
But for those of us who live large, the most alive we ever feel is when we’re punching air with a fist, uncurling our middle finger with a cool smile, and flipping Death the big old bird.
~Mac’s journal
