QUESTION:

How far are you willing to go?

An odd one. I was thinking of something unrelated when this popped into my head. I was actually thinking that the first cigarette of the day with my first cup of coffee is... the only one I  really enjoy- the rest is habit. Period.

Then that question - in hindsight, okay, related - decided to intrude and I took off down its road.

How far was I willing to go?

But for what? Or whom?

I'd never really given this much thought.

I recall... I had a girlfriend in my late twenties- in a tumultuous on/off relationship at the time with a wayward rich young bloke. One night, I was in the back seat, she was driving her little "daddy bought it for me" sports car when the boyfriend, in the front passenger seat... pulled the handbrake! They'd been arguing, the entire half hour trip. Loudly.

I'd withdrawn into myself, sending my thoughts away from the cacophony as usual when suddenly, I'd heard:

"Get back with me woman or I swear, I'll kill us both now!"

"No!" (Valid, since she'd caught him cheating on her.)

Screeeeeeeechhhhhhh

I remember thinking at the time, "Hey! What about me? You guys forget me?"

What I said was, "What the fuck you two?" as my body slid across the back seat and my head (no seat-belts back then either) smacked into the side of the other car door. I saw stars.

Thankfully, it was late at night with little traffic and the road was a wide one. She managed to stop the car without killing anyone. (Except the car that daddy's money bought and the insurance would subsequently not pay for.)

The week before, she'd made me sit behind the wheel (as a getaway driver) while she'd smashed one of his side windows and let herself into his house... where she'd proceeded to destroy everything. (That was the night we'd caught him smooching at a nightclub and he hadn't seen us.) She trashed the place. In the end, I'd had to drag her away before she torched it.

The week after... he showered her with flower petals and sent bottle after bottle of expensive champagne at the restaurant she and I were at, and they made up and they were as lovey-dovey as two on a "we're about to fuck and we both like the idea" date.

At the time, it was all bewildering. I'd never known such extremes. Nor could I imagine myself in similar scenarios. I'd have walked away the first time he'd cheated. Nor would I have pay-back cheated on him as was her fashion. Then... what? Both of us professing to the world how much we loved each other- that week?

No way.

But. A part of me wanted to know such extremes of passion. I recall studying them closely. Trying to figure out the kind of love which drove one to such lengths - in either direction - because I'd never even conceived of these lengths let alone considered any. I simply walked away. All lady-like. (Okay, except for that one time, but he had slapped me...)

But then-

"Am I an emotional coward?"

"What?"

"You heard me! Am I so timid, so mousey, so insipid- am I so afraid to... feel? Grandiose shit! Like them, back then, and all the rest I see around me. Fire. Storms and calms in-between. Life damn it, with blood and guts and all that glory! Why don't I have me some of that?"

"Ye...."

"Fuck off!"

Truth hurts.

"I am Queen-like in nature! I expect things and people to come to me; else take their allegiance elsewhere. I am far too regal by nature to ever involve myself in a verbal spat or stoop to the level of a shrill 'washer-woman'. It does not befit me!" (So I tell myself, each time I perform an act of cowardice.)

The above aside, I would kill or be killed to save a child of mine- that's a given. I'd gladly go that far. Would I take a bullet to save the one I love? Probably. It would be instinctive, I imagine; my need to protect him at all cost.

That's personal stuff though.

For wealth?

I once knocked back a vast sum of money... for a single oyster. If I'd eaten it, the cheque with the many zeros and my name on it would have been in my wallet. I was the plaything really; mistress to a rich man with rich friends. The bet was made. That I would eat it. Such was the confidence that I could be bought; that I could compromise my vegan principles that far.

I didn't.

Wealth is not an incentive for me. I've seen fortunes  (including my own) come and go and frankly... seeing what's going on around me, I am better off without one. Life is simpler this way. Less of a pretense. I wouldn't go far at all for cash- in fact, I'd go nowhere at all.

For fame?

Hmmm... depends. On what I had to compromise. There's always a bloody compromise. If what propelled me to fame hurt anyone I loved, then no. I'd pass. Even if it hurt someone who'd hurt me and was deserved of it... I'd still hold back. I'd think, "I'm better than them. I won't stoop to their level."

'Sensational' fame I'd run the opposite way from.

If I had to compromise my words to gain it? "No way baby. Fuck your fame, you ain't touching them!" That's what I would say. I would never compromise my words for fame. Another given.

Because someone 'discovered' me and fame came as an unintended consequence? I'd take that; I didn't seek it, it sought me. All I would have done is what I always do: Try my best to help anyone in need through both words and actions. I'd take it and be thankful. I'd go there, for sure. This would be the fame for me.

To help a friend?

I once drove over a thousand kilometres to help a stranded friend. Straight through. We didn't have the luxury of roadside assistance just yet nor the ease of transferring emergency funds card-to-then-non-existent-ATMs; nor mobile phones and online banking and GPS. (Outside of banking hours which were dismal and a torture to patience anyway, you were screwed money-wise.) So I got in my car and I drove; the 'Melways" open to whatever region I was passing through and a stop now and then to make sure I was on the right road.

I'd go to great lengths for a friend, that's for sure.

To help a bonsai grower hanging off a window ledge?

Boy. Tough one. It's a species of human I personally detest: one with calculated, systematic cruelty towards a living thing- torturing its limbs at his will and reducing its majesty to a fraction of what it should have been. Assholes with small dicks (don't care what sex they are) I'd really think about helping them. Maybe I'd make them sign a contract to desist their vile little hobby before I offered up my hand. Maybe.

To quit smoking?

Damn it. There's always that pesky one thing!

What about you? What do you hold dear and how far would you go for it? Else... what wouldn't sway your foot to move at all? What wouldn't you willingly go to any length for?