fireworks

there i am, waiting for the ultimate fireworks of the year. all of the partying (which for me ended in physical disaster), the hooting and hollering, the millions of americans waiting for their moment to say, "hell yeah, go America!" is at hand.

the fireworks display on the fourth of july.

some people love the fireworks- they pre-funk the big city display with their illegal fireworks purchased on a reservation, they might even start a little bonfire on their porch (ask andy), and they give their small children sparklers- because what's better than children running? children running with something on fire.

but i have no bated breath this year, nor have i ever really had bated breath in regards to any fireworks display. i think i got it all out of my system when i went to disneyworld when i was 12. bum deal. and, to make the fireworks display all the worse and truly uneventful- you might even say painful- the organizers this year decided to pump up the patriotic volume by blaring the now classic and much hated american song, "proud to be an american." we've discussed my hatred for country music (see earlier post) and most of you already know that my idea of patriotism is writing about racism in america. not the most "put a boot in 'yer ass" to our "enemies," type of gal.

the only fireworks i like are the ones you can't see. the moment when you're watching the person you've just fallen in love with eat his or her eggs across the table from you, when you realize that there's nothing you want to do more than stay home all day with the same person and talk to them, kiss them, and watch a marathon of top chef. you want those fireworks to go off when you think, on paper, this person should be the one you start a relationship with. everything adds up- the brains, the lifestyle, the personality.

there are no fireworks, though.

some might say, "suck it up, this person's great for you and you're just too picky." others might say, "you're thinking with your gut and not giving this person a chance. see how it turns out." but then, oh then, someone comes and says the thing you wanted- the thing that validates your emotions. the fireworks inside of you telling you to run. "he just has a lot of life inertia. not a lot of spark," the brother tells you. and he's right. there really isn't any fireworks.

and you know what, sometimes you need fireworks in your life. just as long as there isn't an american song attached.