“Carpe Medias” by Dan Pape

Posted by on Jun 1, 2018 in Uncategorized | Comments Off on “Carpe Medias” by Dan Pape

“Carpe Medias”

overrated. Nah, give me a hefty serving of the middle. That’s where the meat is at.

Think about it.

How about the beginning of you? I’m willing to bet you do not want to think about the actual beginning, considering your parents were, ahem. Okay. Okay. I’ll be fair. Your birth, which you don’t remember? Mine involved forceps, or so I am told, which left me with a scar by my eye and almost certainly the need for glasses. But, a memory? Nope.

Let’s go even bigger. Our earth? Our universe? I mean, we were there in a foreshadowing particle sense, but who in their right mind would want to consciously experience eons of cosmic, explosive farting?

Which do you feel more kinship towards: the seed or the tree? Of course, we appreciate the potential energy of a seed. However, we feel the tree. Shit, we breathe the tree.

Mid- anything is a wish destination. Junior year? Twenty-five? Sign me the fuck up. En medias res. Literally an entire literary genre (and foot fetishist’s filmography) has zero obligation to start at the beginning. And, even if our stories do, when is the part you actually start to feel invested?

Experience is the sovereignty of the middle. Morning and night people shake hands in the afternoon. The evening is where my life lives.
The heart nests right about in the middle, too. First kisses are fantastic; real kisses happen later. The truest words you have ever said to another human being? The best sex you ever had? The most comfortable you have ever been? All right smack dab in the center.

Cores. Crises. Cruxes.
Among. With. Between.

For the love of levels, the beginning frequently does not even have the decency to show up! That’s the could-have-been baggage that unholy bastard uses to throw-off our balance.
And don’t even get me started on endings! I have an honorary PhD in endings and, trust me, it ain’t worth the paper it’s printed on.

Creation is painful.
Destruction just leads back to more of the same.
The middle is safe.
It is the province of hugs.

Hmm. Perhaps I am being too harsh? After all, I do enjoy beginnings when they happen. I’ll toast a birthday or celebrate an anniversary in their honor (cough in the midst of the thing itself unfolding cough cough). I’ll even offer a begrudging nod to endings for their hand in character-building and nostalgia. I suppose all I’m really suggesting is a re-evaluation of the temporal playing field. I mean, maybe some greeting cards for middles, too?

“Happy last year of no responsibility! Cherish it!”

“Congratulations on reaching the peeing in front of each other stage!”

“Hooray! Your child can express their personality and hold a conversation now! You can play games with them that are not peekaboo!”

“You are good at your job now, and your coworkers appreciate you!”

“This is the part you will wish you appreciated more!”

You are almost certainly in the middle of something right now, and missing out on it because of those other pesky bookends of time. Especially the first one. Beginnings are