What's In It For Me?

Hi. I'm Glass.

I have been silent long enough and it's time to set the record straight. There's more (so much more) to me than you think. I'm getting tired of being overlooked by what is or isn't contained within me...

What about me? And who I am? For real.

I have been used, shattered, broken and forgotten... cast away thoughtlessly off some far away pier, only to return to some lucky child's sand pail fifty years later. It's been a long and rough life, and I have tales... believe you me... I have tales.

But, has anybody ever asked? I think not.

What they have asked, however, is: "Is the glass half full or half empty?"

My friends who accompany me in this Still Life think I'm lucky. After all, I'm a point of reference for all of human-kind. But what does that saying, that philosophozma, have to do with me? Nothing.

That's right, absolutely nothing.

I mentioned briefly above that I've been used, and quite frankly, I don't know what's worse; to be used in the lippy, tonguey, slobbery sense-- or to be used as a perpetual metaphor.

Sure, it's gross having people splat their H1N1 all over me all the time, but at least there is the hope of hand washing afterward. Ahhh--- hand washing. Is there anything better? Fool dishwashers. I curse the day they were invented. It's like a freaky fun house in there.

But anyway, I think I'd rather be guzzled with streap than constantly used as a metaphor. They're missing the point. They think they're paying me respect... that there's some dignity in referring to me all the time--but it's actually all about them.

Where's the part about me?

No one stops to consider the actual, factual me. Well, I'm here to tell you that those days are over. It's time you all knew the truth about me. It only took me twenty-seven days to type this post-- which pales in comparison to the number of years I've spent in my voiceless prison.

So, here I stand making my thoughts known for the first time... literally, in your face.