Three days before the death of Freddie Mercury, a compilation album of the man’s best solo works was released — entitled “Lover of Life, Singer of Songs.”
For a long time, that album title seemed just about the best epitaph a person could wish for: to be known as someone who breathed in the good and the bad — and sang about it — because all of life was something to cherish. So, there were rainy, dreary days where I would look up at the gray sky, feel the cold drizzle against my face, and be glad of it. There were times when I had a bittersweet chuckle or two about a particularly hurtful thing someone had said to me. Even death itself seemed to be just another facet to the magic of life. To me, life was like dark chocolate — the touch bitterness made it all the more sweet.
But, quite frankly, I’m not all that into sweets these days. They’re bad for your teeth, and too much sugar isn’t good for your heart. I’m tired of floating through life in a hypothetical haze of romantic musing. What I’m hungry for is some good honest work, and the meat & potatoes to get it done. It’s going to take some time to fully adjust my mindset, but I’m honestly going to try to spend less time looking for the good in bad situations — and work toward making the world an objectively better place for us all.