Sigmund's astral body chuckled with contentment yesterday as I learned an important lesson about the nature of desire. It all started with an afternoon sweet treat craving and an ad for a Frappuccino on a cup holder that I played with on my desk during a conference call.
Now, it's no secret that I have long been a fan of Starbucks's product, highly-available coffee. Given my love for the brewed bean purveyor, you might be surprised to learn that I had never tried a Frappuccino. They just seemed so expensive (I get the misto although I really prefer a cappuccino mostly because it costs about a dollar less) and more like a dessert than a beverage, really. I've had the ice coffee, of course, and the weird Vivanno blended smoothie drink, too. But, until yesterday afternoon when I succumbed to my yearning, I had never had the Frappuccino.
Well, desire sure is the yearning for a fundamentally lost object, Sigmund. I'd even go a step further and say it's a yearning for something that one cannot have, that may never have existed. The Frappuccino? Crappuccino, people. Not only wasn't it as good as it was in my imagination, but it was just plain pukey. It didn't taste anything like coffee, was way, way too sweet, and had a certain waxy thickness about its texture that seemed highly unnatural. Gross, gross, gross.
Some things we think we want, with all our hearts, are only wanted because they can't be had. Some things look like delicious sweet treats and we might fantasize about them as afternoon snacks, but in reality those frozen coffee drinks might have been serial womanizers who have horrible, violent tempers who are are registered Republicans.
Ah, desire. First it's red and then it's blue. And every time I see a Frappuccino, it reminds me of you.
What flower expresses the kisses, the kisses?
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1 year ago
2 comments:
I still yearn for a bite of the cake that Pollyanna, as played by Hayley Mills in the 1960s Disney film, enjoys at the carnival. Never have I found a comparable experience to what I imagine: the light fluffy crumb, the soft buttery frosting, the chocolate...
Hayley Mills. Sigh.
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