In Bloom

I was standing on my balcony, admiring the gargantuan lilac bush in my back yard, which is in glorious bloom. It's been there since before I moved in a decade ago; the bush could be older than me, for all I know. I was thinking how lovely it would be to clips some lilacs and bring a bouquet of them to someone as a gift. Maybe a host of a party, or a shopkeeper with whom I'm friendly.

And then I thought no, you can't bring lilacs anywhere without offending someone. Flowers, food, artwork...you can't bring anything anywhere without someone taking offense, considering themselves assaulted somehow.

I used to love pot luck dinners. Now I'm afraid of them, and don't accept invitations as often as I used to, because no matter what cooking ingredients I use or don't use in the dish I bring, someone will consider themselves victimized by me.

I haven't worn perfume/fragrance oil in almost two years. It's not worth the shit I took for it.

I can't think of anything on the face of this earth -- animal, vegetable, mineral or idea -- that isn't going to offend, trigger, assault, oppress, scar, wound, marginalize or disenfranchise someone. I quit, as far as futilely trying to circumnavigate it is concerned.

Sorry for the momentary wave of grump. I don't usually chronicle these moods, which are rare. But it just got to me this time, there on the balcony.

If anyone wants some lilacs, I have some.