A Note From Sand
Dear Human Race,
Yes, it was you who ruined the peace and tranquility I had going on here for thousands of years. Before you arrived, I was essentially undisturbed – infinitely smooth if you will. I didn’t have to depend on my pal, Ocean, to smooth out the footprints and sand castles you left behind. But, in time, I did manage to get over it. I moved on. That is, apart from one thing. Why in the world do you still feel it necessary to write notes in me to your loved ones?
I mean, do you see me coming up and carving my initials into your stomachs? Am I scripting ‘I miss you’ onto your foreheads and then photographing my work? No. Not only because I find it to be rude, but mostly, it’s because I’m not an idiot.
Look, I get it. You’re on vacation. You’re having a good time. You’re away from the hustle and bustle of the city. And you’re absolutely flabbergasted at the smoothness of yours truly. It’s not hard to see why. I’m light as air to pick up, fluffy as a pillow to walk on, and yet, mysteriously, I provide the support your lower lumbar region needs while laying out. So why not play with me? Why not indulge in something you don’t see everyday. That part I understand.
Where I get lost is the part where you all become absolutely fascinated at the idea of writing things in me. Add water to the mix and it’s like you’re all transported back to the prehistoric age and you’ve just seen fire for the first time. You mean we can write things in the sand and other people will be able to read them? No way!!
Unfortunately, yes way. You can apply the motor skills you were born with, the ones you honed in kindergarten, and you can write words in sand, er, me. And not only that, you can photograph these words and preserve your extraordinary creation forever and ever. Because honestly, what says ‘I care’ more than someone taking 17 seconds out of his/her day to carve ‘Wish You Were Here’ in my backside. Really, we should all be so lucky to have friends like you.
I suppose it’s not even worth mentioning the fact that two seconds after you craft this lyric of the heart, it’ll be washed away by nature’s eraser, never to be read again. That part doesn’t seem to matter to any of you. No, it’s the thought that counts. It’s that age-old cop-out you humans developed long ago to excuse your friends for getting you crappy gifts. I suppose the irony of a friend who isn’t thoughtful enough to get you a present you would enjoy gets lost in all of this – maybe in the waves of the ocean where your messages get lost, too.
Listen, I want to be friends. I really do. I think we’ve got a decent thing going here. What with the whole beach cleanup things that seem to be happening everywhere these days. But for my sake, and your own, you’ve got to stop writing notes in me. You’ve got to stop artificially creating a moment in time, and using me as the canvas. It doesn’t feel good. And honestly, it doesn’t paint a very flattering picture for the human race, either.
Love,
Sand
Dear Sand,
What about drawing giant oversized penises on you? Even you have to admit that’s hilarious. I don’t care how old you are, anytime you see a comical phallic image drawn on you, you have to chuckle just a little. Case and point:
http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3132/2766565133_ac72b359f2.jpg?v=0
I am in full agreement that gay love notes and clever non-sequiturs are annoying at best and probably an incredible nuisance to you, but let the humans have their fun. I mean, turtles lay eggs in you, I’d have to think that’s more intrusive than a giant cock drawn for amusement. All I’m saying is, please consider it.
Yours Truly,
Concerned Human