Could it be that I’ve already exhausted everything I had to write about by only the second post? I sure hope not; that would be pretty embarrassing, not to mention a complete waste of money setting this whole thing up. I know, I know, registering a domain name doesn’t really cost that much. And yeah, putting stuff on the Internet for most people usually costs nothing. But I always like to spend a little money where everyone else sees an opportunity not to. It shows that I’m serious. Like when I go to Subway, I insist on buying two six-inch sandwiches, both exactly the same, for the specific reason of not having to participate in the never-ending “Five Dollar Footlong” promotional event. Frankly, I think it a little ballsy of Subway to assume that much control over my personal finances. Maybe I was planning to treat myself out to a special lunch today. But no, now I’m standing on line just like every other riff-raff and hobo in town at an establishment now barely a notch higher-class than a soup kitchen. Free refills? No thank you! In fact, I always buy a bottled soda, plus a fountain soda, and then I pour the soda from the bottle into the paper cup. It just tastes better that way. I say that the era of “marginally-something for basically-nothing” is long overdue to expire. And I know very well that cookies are buy-two-get-one-free. Stop bossing me around!
People always put such a special emphasis on firsts. First words. First marriages. First DUIs. But I think the second time around is always a lot more special than the first. There is just way too much pressure when doing anything for the first time. You’re abruptly going from doing nothing to doing something. Chances are you’re going to screw it up. It’s much easier to simply accept that fact, acknowledge it, and move on. I’m rereading my first blog post as I write this and, frankly, I’m horrified that I actually subjected all of you to such mindless drivel. My sincerest of apologies.
I’m thinking that this second blog post is going to be my best one ever. Second times are infinitely better than first times. When my mom makes a giant meal for my whole family, I’m always eating the first serving not really concentrating on enjoying the food, but more focusing on finishing my first plate before anybody else in my family has a chance to finish theirs. This way, I’m assured that I’ll be first in line for a second helping. It’s only after I’ve elbowed everyone else out of the way for that last piece of steak that I can really sit back and savor each bite.
Now that I’m thinking about it, everywhere I look in my life, I’m finding the second time around to be much better than the first. Like when I passed my road test on my second try. Or the second time I bowled a perfect game. Those are all pretty obvious, but there are also more subtle examples. Anybody ever go to Seven-Eleven and, when the clerk isn’t looking, you fill up a Big Gulp cup with Slurpee, because the fountain soda is a little cheaper? The first time is always a little weird, because you’re worried that you might get caught, and maybe you might feel a little guilty about going out of your way to cheat a convenience store out of some spare change. But it works, and the second time you go for it, not only are you completely desensitized to the moral ambiguities of what you’re trying to pull off, but also you now realize that, even if the store clerk notices what you’re doing, he or she really couldn’t care enough to actually get into it with you. And don’t trivialize that small change. Over a regular basis, you’re looking at a lot of money.
Third times are inevitably disappointing, and the fourth through twenty-fifth times cycle betweens feelings of despair to feelings like you’re trying to convince yourself that maybe the seventh or eighth time might have been pretty decent after all, but really you know that you’re just saying that to yourself over and over again, hoping that with enough repetition you’ll eventually believe it to be true, but as convincing as it might sound, it will never feel right, because some tiny part of the back of your mind will always remember how nothing can ever live up to that glorious second time. After a lot of times, the cycles begin to blur, leveling out to something you can’t absolutely say is bad, but nothing you would ever realistically label as good. If this strikes you as something worth getting into, I invite you to come back here for further posts. If not, please enjoy reading and rereading this post over and over again, forever.