A comment emailed to me from a reader, Old Friend on Makes Me Wanna Holler inspired me to write this post. He mused that Eliza is a of a rare breed. I have to agree; Eliza deserves to be in a class of her own for she is the strangest of fruits. I try and try to understand her with little success. Her behavior and life remain a conundrum.
There is no way I can explain why she has done some of the things that she has. Or why she presently operates in a state of frenzied paranoia. The old saying goes that you can’t compare apples to oranges. I don’t know what kind of fruit she is, maybe an Elipple. Or an Elnana. Perhaps an Elizaberry. She might just be a Dingleberry. Whatever she is I know that she is a lot different than your everyday garden variety. The fruits of her spirit are quite devilish.
With that being said, I can’t compare her to much of anything. It is really fruitless (pun intended) of me to keep attempting to understand her. I just have to accept the fact that she is not healthy (overripe) and therefore does not have the capacity to act in a sound manner (leaves a sour/bitter/mealy/disgusting taste in the mouth). The rancidness of her fruitage is nausea inducing. Fruit cake is not something I enjoy eating. So I have stopped trying to psychoanalyze her behavior. But this is really hard for me because I like fruit! It is so versatile—you can bake it, puree it, can it, cook it,mash it, candy it, dry it, kebob it, and even use it as a garnish. But it has its limitations. You can’t heal it. Fix it. Reason with it. Understand it.
Me and most of the people in my circle are pretty normal fruit. We are the apples, blueberries, pears, cherries, watermelons and strawberries of life—you know your everyday type of people produce. While I love exotic fruit such as guava, passion fruit, and kiwi to name a few, my appetite just does not tolerate alien fruit. Unfortunately, I am going to leave Eliza in the fruit bowl (bin) where she belongs!
Morocco's Bazaar 