I couldn’t give a damn whether the chicken or the egg came to existence
first.
My inquiry is along the line of colors, fruits and the meaning of life.
Surprisingly I have found an interesting liaison concatenating these three
elements.
Consider the orange fruit. The flagrant joyous delicacy that flourishes
within the trees of Florida and is encapsulated within crates on the
doorsteps of New Yorkers each
winter. Perfectly orbed, as if it was the emanation of a master meatball
roller, the orange
fruit is a gem amongst the fallible bananas, mangos and apples of the times.
There is no question about the consummate and old reliable orange fruit. It
is round. You can count on it. Underneath the barrier of the orange fruits
contemptible peel, the corpulent segments of the bountiful globe are genial
and relishing... Hence, I perceive the orange fruit as an
excellence in its kind. In delineating this fruit I cannot help but come
across a
conundrum of question to the color of the orange fruit. Seventy-two out of
Eighty people commuting the streets of Manhattan on a given Saturday
afternoon will agree that the color of the orange fruit is, infact, the color
“orange.”
Did the color orange exist before the orange fruit came to exist? Let us
say that the color of orange existed first. Some plant germinating science
freak of 9999BC colors the Purple Fruit a shade of orange... therefore it
shall be christened “Orange Fruit.” Or on the opposition, let us say that there was
a Special Fruit. A man discovered that his neighbors face was the color of the
Special Fruit. The Special Fruit’s color was named Orange after the neighbor,
Mr. Gregory Orange. The name of the Special Fruit was gradually conceived
from the name of Mr. Gregory Orange because, hey, the fruit is orange just
like his face.
Where ever did the color and fruit cross? Was it so simple as a
misunderstanding and mocking of a certain Mr. Gregory Orange? Surely
there is a purpose for the two elements to be so intertwined in one another's
meanings. For the fruit and the color shall ever be cooperatively defined as:
A reddish-yellow color. That is all.
Classrooms become fashion shows where meaningless discussions of
music, sports and entertainment proliferate. Hallways become brutal
canvases where the self-proclaimed “incrowd” can paint a masterpiece of
cruelty and ostracization with fear of receiving the same type of contempt,
prejudice, violence, anger. One must contend with the fact that they are
fruitless, burdensome and useless in a world of beautiful, happy people. I am
merely a pawn, a stepping stone, that is used for others triumphant parades.
Sometimes we have to find out for ourselves who we are. Existing is
not enough. We must question our purpose. For it is not until then that we
know what we ought to do. Any Orange Fruit certainly has a lot of thinking
to do as to it’s own purpose, as it’s identity is stolen by a member of the
prism. As I sit and watch life through a looking glass I question: Did I
bring
life or did life bring me? Which came first... Me or Life? And where ever
was the point that the two of us crossed? ... I do not recall any instances.