Superfly

I've been dwelling on this image that was recently burned through my retina and into my cerebellum or cerebral cortex or whatever part it is that processes this stuff.  The image is of the fat fly that I found in my box of sugar a couple of days ago. 

It's not so much the image of the fly itself that I have been dwelling on. It's the circumstances that
must have led up to the fly's death.  He probably entered through the front door, which my roommate
leaves open constantly while he takes his smoke breaks during the day, not realizing what it was that he was entering.  After entering and finding no food after flying 17605 laps around the room landing briefly on a table or my leg or a window he hi the jackpot.  An entire box full of the substance that make his life worth living.  That white grainy substance that makes him feel like Superfly.

And who wouldn't want to feel like Superfly?  I know that I try to feel like Superfly as much as possible.  If I could feel like Superfly every second of the day without any chemical substance, I would.  I mean isn't that the plight of every single male, to release his inner Superflyishness for every woman to relish?  So what does this fly do?  Like a heroin addict in a poppy field, the fly gets greedy.  he eats so much of it that he explodes/ implodes/ overdoses, whatever you'd like to call it.  The precise cause of death has not been determined by the coroner yet, but that doesn't matter.  What matters is the humanistic characteristic that this fly displayed in his ever-loving greed for a white grainy substance.

This fly wasn't just a fly to me.  It was something more.  This fly was like a representation of something.  It could be like some of my friends from high school who haven't even journeyed outside the box long enough to see that there's so much more to life than the white substance that they find in abundance in Hilton.  But it goes beyond that.  It goes beyond any situational metaphor that I could apply to it and represents the more holistic sense of greed which appears in all of us.

This came to me at a weird time.  I had actually considered extending my tour here.  The money is good and I don't really do any work.  By the time I go back I'll have my car paid off, a ton of money saved and even a few new gadgets.  So why push it right?  Why would I ever consider limiting the chances of more life experiences by staying deployed at a base that I cannot leave at any point due to terrorist activities? Greed.  These green eyes of mine can't see outside the box sometimes without a dead fly showing me the way.