one word at a time
On 11/23, my mother called this blog my journal, and I thought, no way is this a journal . This has got to be something else . But I couldn't put my finger on anything . I'm like, what could I logically call this .. What is this ? What is this rambling plethora of inexplicable thoughts ? This great big old mess of mine ? This monster I have created, like Frankenstein ? " Call it an early weekend . Call it going off the deep end . Call it what you want, I've made up my mind . " This is saving the world, one word at a time .
I see everyone else's oh-so happy dappy lives,
and I begin to wonder .
Why are they appreciated so much more ?
Why, when I do just the same, or more,
do they get praised, while I get spurned ?
If you read only one part of the entire series, read this :
" One could say, in fact, that no story really has a beginning, and that no story really has an end, as all of the world's stories are as jumbled as the items in the arboretum, with their details and secrets all heaped together so that the whole story, from beginning to end, depends on how you look at it . We might even say that the world is always in medias res ... and that it is impossible to solve any mystery, or find the root of any trouble, and so [the end] is really the middle of the story ... or even the beginning of the story .... But one cannot sit in the midst of things forever . Eventually one must face that the end is near . "
~ The End, 288-9 ~
" There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don't know and even the people you don't want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face .... For a minute the four castaways did nothing but weep, letting their tears run down their faces and into the sea, which some have said is nothing but a library of all the tears in history . [They] let their sadness join the sadness of the world, and cried for all of the people who were lost to them . They cried ... for all of their companions and guardians, friends and associates, and for all of the failures they could forgive and all of the treacheries they could endure . They cried for the world . "
~ The End, 306-7 ~
" It is likely your own eyes were closed when you were born, so that you left the safe place of your mother's womb ... and joined the treachery of the world without seeing exactly where you were going . You did not yet know the people who were helping you make your way here, or the people who would shelter you as your life began, when you were even smaller and more delicate and demanding than you are now . It seems strange that you would do such a thing, and leave yourself in the care of strangers for so long, only gradually opening your eyes to see what all the fuss was about, and yet this is the way nearly everyone comes into the world . Perhaps if we saw what was ahead of us, and glimpsed the crimes, follies, and misfortunes that would befall us later on, we would all stay in our mother's wombs, and then there would be nobody in the world but a great number of very fat, very irritated women . In any case, this is how all our stories begin, in darkness with our eyes closed, and all our stories end the same way, too, with all of us uttering some last words ... before slipping back into darkness as our series of unfortunate events comes to an end . "
~ The End, 319-20 ~
.. De'ja` vu ..
Avacados in transit ..
Dried strawberries are magically delicious ..
" Every boss has a boss . "
} " What about God ?
} Who is God's boss ? "
" God's boss is his wife . "
" I don't want to go to school tomorrow,
but I have to . "
" No one is in charge of your happiness
except you . "
~ El Dorado Inn ~
I see everyone else's oh-so happy dappy lives,
and I begin to wonder .
Why are they appreciated so much more ?
Why, when I do just the same, or more,
do they get praised, while I get spurned ?
If you read only one part of the entire series, read this :
" One could say, in fact, that no story really has a beginning, and that no story really has an end, as all of the world's stories are as jumbled as the items in the arboretum, with their details and secrets all heaped together so that the whole story, from beginning to end, depends on how you look at it . We might even say that the world is always in medias res ... and that it is impossible to solve any mystery, or find the root of any trouble, and so [the end] is really the middle of the story ... or even the beginning of the story .... But one cannot sit in the midst of things forever . Eventually one must face that the end is near . "
~ The End, 288-9 ~
" There is a kind of crying I hope you have not experienced, and it is not just crying about something terrible that has happened, but a crying for all of the terrible things that have happened, not just to you but to everyone you know and to everyone you don't know and even the people you don't want to know, a crying that cannot be diluted by a brave deed or a kind word, but only by someone holding you as your shoulders shake and your tears run down your face .... For a minute the four castaways did nothing but weep, letting their tears run down their faces and into the sea, which some have said is nothing but a library of all the tears in history . [They] let their sadness join the sadness of the world, and cried for all of the people who were lost to them . They cried ... for all of their companions and guardians, friends and associates, and for all of the failures they could forgive and all of the treacheries they could endure . They cried for the world . "
~ The End, 306-7 ~
" It is likely your own eyes were closed when you were born, so that you left the safe place of your mother's womb ... and joined the treachery of the world without seeing exactly where you were going . You did not yet know the people who were helping you make your way here, or the people who would shelter you as your life began, when you were even smaller and more delicate and demanding than you are now . It seems strange that you would do such a thing, and leave yourself in the care of strangers for so long, only gradually opening your eyes to see what all the fuss was about, and yet this is the way nearly everyone comes into the world . Perhaps if we saw what was ahead of us, and glimpsed the crimes, follies, and misfortunes that would befall us later on, we would all stay in our mother's wombs, and then there would be nobody in the world but a great number of very fat, very irritated women . In any case, this is how all our stories begin, in darkness with our eyes closed, and all our stories end the same way, too, with all of us uttering some last words ... before slipping back into darkness as our series of unfortunate events comes to an end . "
~ The End, 319-20 ~
.. De'ja` vu ..
Avacados in transit ..
Dried strawberries are magically delicious ..
" Every boss has a boss . "
} " What about God ?
} Who is God's boss ? "
" God's boss is his wife . "
" I don't want to go to school tomorrow,
but I have to . "
" No one is in charge of your happiness
except you . "
~ El Dorado Inn ~
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