About Intuition: and
The Eating Habits of Your Good Luck*
Have you ever eaten a bucket of ice cream on your own, on a single evening? I’m talking a decent bucket… The kind that’s got a handle, and not only does it has a handle but the motherfucker twists when you take it out of the freezer in aisle 6 or 7 of the hypermarket of your preference. Your inner dose of prudence tells you for a moment that is probably too much, but at the same time; retail price favours the bold.
Maybe you don’t give much thought to it and pick the same flavour you grab every now and then, some variation of chocolate with bits of this and that or perhaps you pick the blue one with strips of orange if you are more of the adventurous kind.
Maybe you don’t even like Ice Cream
But for the sake of my article
for the next 3 minutes
You make space for the new baby in your deflated freezer, Introduce baby ice cream to her new roommates, you know she’s is not in the best company but she will handle herself just fine until the time comes to pick her up and soon enough, the time arrives.
The damn thing is colder than the ambitions of Iceberg Slim, no complaints. As you take one last stare at the smooth, regular surface for a split second, you could have sworn you had a glimpse at the eyes of diabetes staring right back at you. Was that a wink?
And so the dance begins, subtle at first, approaching shyly around the edges, pretending to know what you are doing, but you can’t fool faith and impatience take the best of you. Maybe you got distracted by the pale reflection of the screen of your nearest device or the clattering of your video streaming service but before you notice you just built yourself a mausoleum.
If there were a chance for retreat this would be it, but you are on tunnel vision now, each spoon swing gives you the courage for the next one, this ain’t no time to dwell in how far you’ve come, you can only trick your stomach for so long.
The aftertaste clings in the back of your throat rapidly decaying from crisp and luscious to a cloying sweetness that drowns your tongue in a creamy mud of artificial flavours. A single tear leans out of your left eye as you hear the sound of metal scratching plastic, its your bell at the end of the 12th.
You toy with a hint of remorse, but you wash it away with a smile and an imaginary pat on the back as you crawl towards a well-deserved glass of water after all it does feel like mission accomplished.
Needless to say, you probably started developing some degree of lactose intolerance after the feat but before we go back to the freezer its time to close my case. You see today we slid across the blade of intuition and instinct, we embraced the crown of accomplishment but lost sight of fulfillment.
Intuition if we would have listened to it, to begin with, would have invited us to walk along to the following aisle and pick a Greek yogurt or a box of granola bars instead. We confused the whispers of intuition with the shouts and clamours of instinct that knows so much about bright colors and loud noises but so little about who we really are.
Excuse the wording as we dont pretend to express no advice but merely to share tales or our own device.