Tonight presented me with a host of plays served on a golden platter (quite literally so since all the featured plays were most likely GWH winning, or at least deserving, theatrical treats). Knowing my inexplicable tendency for abstract material, the first play really spoke to me. Titled "Dear Chuck", it was a personification of our inner self and what we have always wanted to be. Our "Chuck" may coincidentally appear at our doorstep one find day, and other times, we just have to embark on this seemingly endless search for self-fulfillment and realization. Chuck, where are you?
It is all so true that we ascribe different elements to Chuck. He is who we want ourselves to be, and how we want others to treat us. Chuck is less so of a typical inner conscience but more towards the physical embodiment of the externalities we bring to the people around us. He is a dynamic character, morphing into vastly dissimilar and still vaguely familiar apparitions as the circumstances deem fit. From our innocent, untainted adolescent, to our youthful and days as a teenager, transiting into the dreaded life of the corporate will, right through the aisle of our funeral--the grand walkway in immense extol of your exalted life. But what do we work for to receive this glorification? We want to be Chuck,
because we bloody damn well NEED to be Chuck.
Discard those sentiments. You don't have to find Chuck. Notice how Chuck, as abstract as a personified aspiration can be, is a sly attempt at consolidating all our aspirations and dreams into a single character. When we were born, we were slammed with the expectations society credited to our name. Those of sufficient intellectual capacity are either destined to be doctors, lawyers or businessmen. Others will be given the
And this Chuck. As adolescents, our Chuck is to study hard, even through our youthful years. Upon entering the corporate, it is evident that Chuck is now your boss, the persona you identify with most or perhaps your mortal enemy; a double-edged sword. Even with your demise, Chuck is simply your hope that your funeral will be one of grandeur and filled with crowds. Your glorification.
Chuck that away; chuck Chuck away. This is me saying: "Dear _______".
You live your own life. Don't listen to what people tell you. They have no right to judge. They have no Chucking right to judge what you were, and where you are now. You throw it all away.
And remember,
that ____, yes you, you're the star you've been searching for all this while. Stop.
They say, the day I stop worrying about Chuck is the day I find him.
That day is today, well not Chuck, but ________. It's not so much about the physical attainment, but rather the dawning of a realization. Know that you're the master of your fate, the captain of your soul and nothing can erect barriers against that dictum.
Chuck.. queer name. _uck(land), _uck(beak), _uck(old), _uck(ling), _uck (Yuck).
_uck that shit.
You are who you are; nothing more.
Nothing less...