Once upon a time (because all fairy tales should start with once upon a time otherwise how would you know it was a fairy tale) there was a tiny little fairy name Kimmie of Kabulaleighton Click Click Pop. Kimmie of Kabulaleighton Click Click Pop preferred to be called Click for short though most of the other fairies refused to do as she asked.
Click sighed laying upon her lily pad in the pond of tranquility. She was tired. She didn't know when it happened because fairies never got tired, they hardly even rested. She didn't want to fly around and play the normal fairy games (like stealing one or three socks from human dryers so they would search and search for the pair but never find them). Click let her tiny hand skim across the watch making it ripple as if a fire fly had landed (at least that is what any human would have seen). Click was so lost in her own sleepy world she didn't even see the fearsome cat Little Dorritt creep into the pond and begin to swim towards her. Cats were the natural enemy of the Fae and constantly hunted them, which is a good reason why most fairies never stayed still very long always fluttering from this place to that. Bob the owl hooted to warn Click about the Little Dorritt who was now nearly to her. Click half-heartedly flew away but she waited so long she could feel the cats paw shift the air around her. Click fluttered up to where Bob the owl had stationed himself.
"What is wrong Click?" Bob asked.
"I'm tired." Click said blandly.
"Oh no. Who. Who. Sounds like you have that sleep virus that has been going around. It is something that should no be taken too lightly."
Click was concerned. She wasn't sure what a virus was but it sounded menacing. "What should I do?" she asked.
"You must find Lizzie Butterbreadgroundbottom. She lives in a far away play called the city. It is a dangerous journey for there are less places to hide there than in the forest. She will be able to tell you the cure."
"I am too tired to go"
"Click you must, for sleep is detrimental to fairies."
"How do I get there?"
"You must fly to the land of tall buildings 100,000 times as big as you then look for the trees. Once you get to the large green area that managed to survive amongst the tall building you will look for a bulletin board covered in pink papers. She will be to phallic shaped water bottle to the left of that. Knock to the tune of "Take a Load Off Annie" then whisper your name three times while turning counter clockwise and walking two steps backwards. Then you shall gain admittance."
"This is ridiculous"
"You must."
"Fine."
Click flew off though she had no energy. She found the city of tall building and Bob had not exaggerated. She found the green area easily. She ever found the pink paper and water bottles with very little trouble. However once she was there she couldn't remember the sequence of what she needed to do. Click tried several different variations before she was about to give up. Finally her wings sagged in defeat, she was just too tired to continue. She started to shuffle away when she heard someone say "Wait."
Click turned around and another fairy flew out of the small wooded area.
"I am Lizzie. What brings you here little woodland fairy"
"I am sleepy and Bob the owl said you would know what to do."
"I do indeed." Lizzie said gravely. She whistled and the wind blew. Before Click was certain what was happening a greasy long haired man playing the song from Lost Boys called Jon Hamm came bursting out of the trees. The sweet sweet sounds of his music and the terribly handsome jaw line made Click's heart speed up and she was no longer tired. She decided not to return to the forest for she found she liked the bustle of the city. She stayed with Lizzie and Sergio (as she liked to call him) in the patch of woods. And they all lived happily ever after.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Friday, January 29, 2010
Why I love my friends...
We can have email conversations like this...
K- "I didn't get to leave for lunch. I feel like a prisoner."
L- "Maybe you are. Oh noes! Quick try to go outside then report back."
K- "i've been captured! my escape attempt has been foiled!!"
L- "Ok do not panic. DO NOT PANIC!! It will be ok. We just have to think, use our heads. You still have contact with the outside world so that is good. You must now start carrying a poison capsule in your pocket in case you are ever detained by enemy forces.
DO NOT PANIC!!!
Go to the guard at the exit when he is alone. First try to sweet talk your way out. If that doesn't work you might have to show him some boob, nothing else can be done. If that fails (i.e. the guard is gay) you will have to start making a rope out of your hair. Keep this secret from the other prisoners for they will either rat you out to obtain guard favors or they will want in on it and anytime you have too many people in on something it is bound to fail, it's science. Most importantly remember you are not alone. You will recognize other like minds by their ability to quote random FaLiLV lines and their ability to figure out what FaLiLV stands for. Beware of elevators, monkeys, cheese haters, and bats. Good luck."
K- "Gahhh!!!! I printed your instructions off. I even made myself a makeshift wooden sword. But, they demanded to see my papers and I accidentally showed them the instructions you wrote me. I have been beaten because I would not tell them what FaLilLV stood for. They will not get this out of me!!
i have been beaten. send help.
s. o. s."
L- "Play dead. PLAY DEAD!!!!! Quick like a bunny!
Once you are released try to be more careful. I am sending George Baily over to you his fishy good looks should get him through the door. He will meet in a bathroom in the second stall toilet bowl. IMPORTANT...do not flush. I repeat do not flush. George Baily will have supplies for you. Aspercreme, sedatives, brass knuckles, nunchucks, a snack, something to read, and a cowbell.
You must never tell. NEVER.
Will send more reinforcements soonish."
K- "i tried, yet they poked me with a plastic spork and made me give up my wooden sword.
they are trying to get your location out of me. I am going to try to sneak into the 2nd stall toilet bowl. i am concerned someone else went in there and may have already flushed. :(
they want to know who i really am. I am trying hard to fight them getting anything out of me.
If something happens, please be sure to tell them my story. Call it: The Legend of Zelda. "
K- "I didn't get to leave for lunch. I feel like a prisoner."
L- "Maybe you are. Oh noes! Quick try to go outside then report back."
K- "i've been captured! my escape attempt has been foiled!!"
L- "Ok do not panic. DO NOT PANIC!! It will be ok. We just have to think, use our heads. You still have contact with the outside world so that is good. You must now start carrying a poison capsule in your pocket in case you are ever detained by enemy forces.
DO NOT PANIC!!!
Go to the guard at the exit when he is alone. First try to sweet talk your way out. If that doesn't work you might have to show him some boob, nothing else can be done. If that fails (i.e. the guard is gay) you will have to start making a rope out of your hair. Keep this secret from the other prisoners for they will either rat you out to obtain guard favors or they will want in on it and anytime you have too many people in on something it is bound to fail, it's science. Most importantly remember you are not alone. You will recognize other like minds by their ability to quote random FaLiLV lines and their ability to figure out what FaLiLV stands for. Beware of elevators, monkeys, cheese haters, and bats. Good luck."
K- "Gahhh!!!! I printed your instructions off. I even made myself a makeshift wooden sword. But, they demanded to see my papers and I accidentally showed them the instructions you wrote me. I have been beaten because I would not tell them what FaLilLV stood for. They will not get this out of me!!
i have been beaten. send help.
s. o. s."
L- "Play dead. PLAY DEAD!!!!! Quick like a bunny!
Once you are released try to be more careful. I am sending George Baily over to you his fishy good looks should get him through the door. He will meet in a bathroom in the second stall toilet bowl. IMPORTANT...do not flush. I repeat do not flush. George Baily will have supplies for you. Aspercreme, sedatives, brass knuckles, nunchucks, a snack, something to read, and a cowbell.
You must never tell. NEVER.
Will send more reinforcements soonish."
K- "i tried, yet they poked me with a plastic spork and made me give up my wooden sword.
they are trying to get your location out of me. I am going to try to sneak into the 2nd stall toilet bowl. i am concerned someone else went in there and may have already flushed. :(
they want to know who i really am. I am trying hard to fight them getting anything out of me.
If something happens, please be sure to tell them my story. Call it: The Legend of Zelda. "
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Death is in the Details
A boy with a parrot on his shoulder was walking along the railway tracks. Rhythmically taping a long gnarled stick, which had been surreptitiously shed of its leaves, along the railroad ties in pattern only detectable to him the boy chased away boredom with the grand adventure of his own thoughts. He wiped sweat from his brow with the back of his right hand clutching a worn and tattered hat adorned with a drawn on skull and crossbones. He carefully readjusted the stuffed parrot he had fastened to his shoulder with tape and wire.
The boy jammed the hat back onto his head before diving off the tracks holding his wooden stick like a scimitar.
"Arrr back you scurvy devils!" He said with vehemence to the trees in front of him. "I am the pirate Black John and I am requisitioning this here ship unless any of you are brave enough to stop me!"
The boy danced around swinging his sword with enough force to cause the air to whistle around it. He occasionally jabbed his sword at his imaginary foes then laughed mercilessly.
"Come on you scurvy dogs is that the best you have!" He taunted the quiet forest in front of him. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves but did nothing to relieve the stifling heat from the blazing sun of mid-afternoon.
The boy sighed out of boredom. Playing make believe was only fun for so long when you were alone. He was always alone. The child eyed the forest with curiosity. So many adventures, new adventures could be had in there.
However, his mother’s voice rang in his ears. He wasn’t allowed to play in the forest. The forest was so thick and dark it was too easy to get turned around, lost inside. He was supposed to stay within close enough distance to his house to hear her if she called for him. Those were the rules, simple and clear.
He peered back over his shoulder across the tracks to the back of the small, blue row house he lived in that shook every time the train went by. The boy looked up at the sun. Surely his mother wouldn’t need him anytime soon… though he could not remember how long he had been out playing. Surely he still had hours before she would call him in for dinner.
The boy nervously licked his lips glancing from the forest to his blue house. He wanted to go, to explore the great unknown. The child’s desire to see what was foreign to him far out reached the fear he had of getting in trouble. Without another glance behind he charged into the forest the gnarled stick leading the way.
He ran through the forest dodging tall and looming trees, leaped over fallen, dying branches. The wind in his hair, the coolness of shade on his skin all sang to him of freedom. Freed from the heat, freed from the rules, freed from the imminent boredom he whooped and hollered slapping trees with his sword as he ran past them, an unaffected smile on face.
The boy stopped as he came to a stop at the edge of a small, gentle, bubbling stream. He peered into the rippling water watching it tumble over the rocks in perfect harmony with the world around. The child sat on a thick mossy patch beneath a giant white tree with no bark close enough to still hear the stream as it flowed with no regard to time. He leaned his head against the trunk and closed his eyes.
Immediately he opened his eyes again. When his eyes were closed he saw his mother crying alone in her kitchen. He saw other things too. Bad things. Things he did not think about. He jerked the hat from his head, he did not want to be a pirate anymore. It seemed like he was always a pirate. The child thoughtfully looked around the forest trying to dismiss the bad images that had come to mind by choosing a new game to play. He mindlessly tapped the gnarled stick while thinking about what he could pretend next.
"What's that?" He heard a sharp gruff voice say from deep within the woods.
"What?" another equally gruff voice replied.
The boy scrambled to his feet and hid behind the tree. He peered around the edge looking for the source of the voices. On the other side of the creek he saw two men and a mangy looking dog approaching the creek. The men were both dirty and dressed in many ragged layers. Their skin was worn and weathered like a saddle. One had a snug fitting wool cap on and the other had dirty red hair that fell across his forehead into his eyes. They both had a mean, hard look to them.
"Must be nothing." Said the red headed man, but his eyes narrowed as he scanned the forest once more.
The boy stayed as still and as quiet as he could, hiding behind the tree barely peeking around wanting to see them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw he had left his hat on the other side of the tree.
The man with the hat dropped his cloth sack on the ground next to the creek then ungracefully plopped down next to it stretching his feet out in front of him. The red headed man squatted on the ground next to him like he was perched to attack anyone that came near. Now that they were closer the boy could see the man in the hat was much older than the red headed man. The child worried the red headed man would see his hat and come looking over here. He needed to get it back.
"I hate it here." growled the red headed man.
The man in the cap rolled his eyes. "Oh is poor Jonas scared of the big bad woods?" mockery dripping from each word he spoke.
Jonas stood up pacing back and forth like a panther. "It's strange here." he said stubbornly.
“There's nowhere else we can go. They will be looking for us.”
The red head shrugged his shoulders.
“Had you not shot that gas station worker…”The man with the cap trailed off as he pulled a bottle of amber colored liquid from his sack. He took a long swig grimacing as he pulled his mouth away from the bottle. He offered it to Jonas. "It will be a cold one tonight. Fall comes faster every year." he said.
"Ain’t that the truth, Burt." Jonas said taking the bottle from the old man so he could take his own equally long swig.
The child shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to leave, but he was scared. He was scared they would catch him. He was scared he would not see his mother again.
The boy watched and listened to the foul conversation the men were having, waiting for them to leave or settle down. He impatiently glanced to the sky to make sure the sun was still shining and his mother had not missed him yet, but the sky was turning pink and blue as it was beginning to set. Finally when the red headed man named Jonas sat down the boy decided to make a break for it. He darted forward and snatched up his hat then ran away as quickly as his legs would carry him.
He heard the dog start viciously barking behind him and footsteps which seemed to be catching him. He clutched the hat and ran as fast as he could through the forest. The parrot flew off his shoulder, but the child kept running. No longer with the since of freedom he originally had. He could hear the men shouting behind him and the dog barking, barking so loud it had to be chasing after him. The boy dodged trees, hurdled fallen branches too afraid to look behind him. He couldn’t see the way out of the forest and he was so tired. The boy felt something grabbing at his shoulder.
The sun was bright and high in the sky, the boy could not remember how long he had been outside. He started walking down the railroad tracks with a parrot on his shoulder.
The boy jammed the hat back onto his head before diving off the tracks holding his wooden stick like a scimitar.
"Arrr back you scurvy devils!" He said with vehemence to the trees in front of him. "I am the pirate Black John and I am requisitioning this here ship unless any of you are brave enough to stop me!"
The boy danced around swinging his sword with enough force to cause the air to whistle around it. He occasionally jabbed his sword at his imaginary foes then laughed mercilessly.
"Come on you scurvy dogs is that the best you have!" He taunted the quiet forest in front of him. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves but did nothing to relieve the stifling heat from the blazing sun of mid-afternoon.
The boy sighed out of boredom. Playing make believe was only fun for so long when you were alone. He was always alone. The child eyed the forest with curiosity. So many adventures, new adventures could be had in there.
However, his mother’s voice rang in his ears. He wasn’t allowed to play in the forest. The forest was so thick and dark it was too easy to get turned around, lost inside. He was supposed to stay within close enough distance to his house to hear her if she called for him. Those were the rules, simple and clear.
He peered back over his shoulder across the tracks to the back of the small, blue row house he lived in that shook every time the train went by. The boy looked up at the sun. Surely his mother wouldn’t need him anytime soon… though he could not remember how long he had been out playing. Surely he still had hours before she would call him in for dinner.
The boy nervously licked his lips glancing from the forest to his blue house. He wanted to go, to explore the great unknown. The child’s desire to see what was foreign to him far out reached the fear he had of getting in trouble. Without another glance behind he charged into the forest the gnarled stick leading the way.
He ran through the forest dodging tall and looming trees, leaped over fallen, dying branches. The wind in his hair, the coolness of shade on his skin all sang to him of freedom. Freed from the heat, freed from the rules, freed from the imminent boredom he whooped and hollered slapping trees with his sword as he ran past them, an unaffected smile on face.
The boy stopped as he came to a stop at the edge of a small, gentle, bubbling stream. He peered into the rippling water watching it tumble over the rocks in perfect harmony with the world around. The child sat on a thick mossy patch beneath a giant white tree with no bark close enough to still hear the stream as it flowed with no regard to time. He leaned his head against the trunk and closed his eyes.
Immediately he opened his eyes again. When his eyes were closed he saw his mother crying alone in her kitchen. He saw other things too. Bad things. Things he did not think about. He jerked the hat from his head, he did not want to be a pirate anymore. It seemed like he was always a pirate. The child thoughtfully looked around the forest trying to dismiss the bad images that had come to mind by choosing a new game to play. He mindlessly tapped the gnarled stick while thinking about what he could pretend next.
"What's that?" He heard a sharp gruff voice say from deep within the woods.
"What?" another equally gruff voice replied.
The boy scrambled to his feet and hid behind the tree. He peered around the edge looking for the source of the voices. On the other side of the creek he saw two men and a mangy looking dog approaching the creek. The men were both dirty and dressed in many ragged layers. Their skin was worn and weathered like a saddle. One had a snug fitting wool cap on and the other had dirty red hair that fell across his forehead into his eyes. They both had a mean, hard look to them.
"Must be nothing." Said the red headed man, but his eyes narrowed as he scanned the forest once more.
The boy stayed as still and as quiet as he could, hiding behind the tree barely peeking around wanting to see them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw he had left his hat on the other side of the tree.
The man with the hat dropped his cloth sack on the ground next to the creek then ungracefully plopped down next to it stretching his feet out in front of him. The red headed man squatted on the ground next to him like he was perched to attack anyone that came near. Now that they were closer the boy could see the man in the hat was much older than the red headed man. The child worried the red headed man would see his hat and come looking over here. He needed to get it back.
"I hate it here." growled the red headed man.
The man in the cap rolled his eyes. "Oh is poor Jonas scared of the big bad woods?" mockery dripping from each word he spoke.
Jonas stood up pacing back and forth like a panther. "It's strange here." he said stubbornly.
“There's nowhere else we can go. They will be looking for us.”
The red head shrugged his shoulders.
“Had you not shot that gas station worker…”The man with the cap trailed off as he pulled a bottle of amber colored liquid from his sack. He took a long swig grimacing as he pulled his mouth away from the bottle. He offered it to Jonas. "It will be a cold one tonight. Fall comes faster every year." he said.
"Ain’t that the truth, Burt." Jonas said taking the bottle from the old man so he could take his own equally long swig.
The child shifted uncomfortably. He wanted to leave, but he was scared. He was scared they would catch him. He was scared he would not see his mother again.
The boy watched and listened to the foul conversation the men were having, waiting for them to leave or settle down. He impatiently glanced to the sky to make sure the sun was still shining and his mother had not missed him yet, but the sky was turning pink and blue as it was beginning to set. Finally when the red headed man named Jonas sat down the boy decided to make a break for it. He darted forward and snatched up his hat then ran away as quickly as his legs would carry him.
He heard the dog start viciously barking behind him and footsteps which seemed to be catching him. He clutched the hat and ran as fast as he could through the forest. The parrot flew off his shoulder, but the child kept running. No longer with the since of freedom he originally had. He could hear the men shouting behind him and the dog barking, barking so loud it had to be chasing after him. The boy dodged trees, hurdled fallen branches too afraid to look behind him. He couldn’t see the way out of the forest and he was so tired. The boy felt something grabbing at his shoulder.
The sun was bright and high in the sky, the boy could not remember how long he had been outside. He started walking down the railroad tracks with a parrot on his shoulder.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Hair Today Gone Tomorrow
Once upon a time there was a person named Stevie Mulligan. Stevie Mulligan was awesome. Everything about Stevie was completely awesome from the awesome name, to awesome shoes to awesome hair. Stevie could run, jump, laugh, explain, kiss, punch, understand better than anyone else he had ever met. Stevie was an action hero. In fact he wore a Batman belt buckle just so everyone was aware that HE was special.
One day Stevie was walking down the street mulling over exactly how he became to be so awesomely cool in everything he did. He caught a glance of his own reflection in a glass window front. He stopped to admire his own charming good looks when he noticed something funny. His hair did not appear to be his own hair. In fact he wasn't even sure it was attached. I tugged on it gently and nothing happened. Stevie leaned in closer to inspect this outlander hair. He tried and tried to tug, comb, smooth out the hair on his head but no matter what he did it still didn't look like his. Stevie started to have an identity crisis. Who was he? Whose hair was this? How did it get on his head? Why were people staring at him he wasn't being awesome?
Stevie knew everyone could see that this wasn't his hair. They would think it was a toupee and toupee's are not awesome. Stevie couldn't let people believe that of him so he pulled out all the offensive hairs one at a time while staring wall eyed into his reflection in the glass window. When Stevie was about halfway done suddenly he noticed his reflection was moving even though he wasn't. His eyes adjusted and he saw a man who had been dining inside the restaurant stand up trying not to look at the crazy man on the street plucking out his hair. Stevie looked at his reflection again. All of the foreign hair had been just that...foreign. He had mistaken the man's, inside the building, hair for his own. Now Stevie has ruined himself. Wavy blond hair covered the ground below him and his bald scalp on top of his head was red and swollen. Only the sides of his hair remained.
Stevie's hair never grew back because he doubted his own awesomeness.
One day Stevie was walking down the street mulling over exactly how he became to be so awesomely cool in everything he did. He caught a glance of his own reflection in a glass window front. He stopped to admire his own charming good looks when he noticed something funny. His hair did not appear to be his own hair. In fact he wasn't even sure it was attached. I tugged on it gently and nothing happened. Stevie leaned in closer to inspect this outlander hair. He tried and tried to tug, comb, smooth out the hair on his head but no matter what he did it still didn't look like his. Stevie started to have an identity crisis. Who was he? Whose hair was this? How did it get on his head? Why were people staring at him he wasn't being awesome?
Stevie knew everyone could see that this wasn't his hair. They would think it was a toupee and toupee's are not awesome. Stevie couldn't let people believe that of him so he pulled out all the offensive hairs one at a time while staring wall eyed into his reflection in the glass window. When Stevie was about halfway done suddenly he noticed his reflection was moving even though he wasn't. His eyes adjusted and he saw a man who had been dining inside the restaurant stand up trying not to look at the crazy man on the street plucking out his hair. Stevie looked at his reflection again. All of the foreign hair had been just that...foreign. He had mistaken the man's, inside the building, hair for his own. Now Stevie has ruined himself. Wavy blond hair covered the ground below him and his bald scalp on top of his head was red and swollen. Only the sides of his hair remained.
Stevie's hair never grew back because he doubted his own awesomeness.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
2010... sounds like a Sci-Fi movie
Happy New Years Eve eve. In honor of yet another year gone and a shiny new one about to begin here are my lists (besides for the normal happy healthy family and friends, peace on earth, good will towards men stuff...)
Best Ever 2009
- Zombies sudden spurt of popularity to counter Twilight craziness.
- White Rabbits not technically introduced in 2009 but this is the first year I have heard of them and they are awesome.
- Seeing Matt Nathanson twice in concert with in two weeks.
- Zombie Matt Nathanson- a remote control zombie that I have named after my musical obsession what can be better than that?!?!
- The "Your Mom Likes Cake" birthday cake. Epic win Kim.
- Twitter- I was so resistant to trying this Twitter thing. But I gave in for John Cusack and re-affirmed my love of Kevin Smith, and now I stay for Matt Nathanson.
- George Bailey (the fish)So cute, so feisty, so full of fishy attitude.
- Chipolte and Starbucks being within walking distance of my office
- Captain Tool's reign being short lived
2010 Wishes
- Whole Foods comes to Columbia
- Books! Mine, others, just books.
- "Inception" is as good as I believe it will be
- L.T. stops saying "good deal"
- MU goes to a good bowl game
- Vacation
- Become independently wealthy
Best Ever 2009
- Zombies sudden spurt of popularity to counter Twilight craziness.
- White Rabbits not technically introduced in 2009 but this is the first year I have heard of them and they are awesome.
- Seeing Matt Nathanson twice in concert with in two weeks.
- Zombie Matt Nathanson- a remote control zombie that I have named after my musical obsession what can be better than that?!?!
- The "Your Mom Likes Cake" birthday cake. Epic win Kim.
- Twitter- I was so resistant to trying this Twitter thing. But I gave in for John Cusack and re-affirmed my love of Kevin Smith, and now I stay for Matt Nathanson.
- George Bailey (the fish)So cute, so feisty, so full of fishy attitude.
- Chipolte and Starbucks being within walking distance of my office
- Captain Tool's reign being short lived
2010 Wishes
- Whole Foods comes to Columbia
- Books! Mine, others, just books.
- "Inception" is as good as I believe it will be
- L.T. stops saying "good deal"
- MU goes to a good bowl game
- Vacation
- Become independently wealthy
Sunday, December 20, 2009
What I have learned from Romantic Comedies
Recently I have started following this blog/twitter person. His name is SingleSteve. The guy’s endless pursuit of love and a relationship is pretty funny (purposely so, I am not laughing at him out of meanness). He often tweets RFMNGF (requirements for my next girl friend), they are cute, sometimes funny little things he is looking for in a women. I have briefly considered starting to do RFMNBF, but then I remembered something that changed my mind.
If romantic comedies are worth a hill of beans then we have all learned at least one invaluable lesson. That lesson is whatever qualities are placed on said list will hold you back from many… many relationships then one magical day you will meet someone who embodies all that you are looking for. This person will be exactly what you have always thought you wanted, but you will be bored. The annoying womanizer, jerk, fill in the blank that has none of the traits on your list that works with you, lives in your building, goes to the same Laundromat, etc. will suddenly realize he is about to lose you and reveal his heart of gold.
So I can see no other solution than to not make a list unless you wish to end up with someone who has nothing in common with you and who annoys you more often than not. Don’t make it that easy for the fates to toy with you by listing out what you are looking for; find it, hold on to it and don’t let the universe take it away.
If romantic comedies are worth a hill of beans then we have all learned at least one invaluable lesson. That lesson is whatever qualities are placed on said list will hold you back from many… many relationships then one magical day you will meet someone who embodies all that you are looking for. This person will be exactly what you have always thought you wanted, but you will be bored. The annoying womanizer, jerk, fill in the blank that has none of the traits on your list that works with you, lives in your building, goes to the same Laundromat, etc. will suddenly realize he is about to lose you and reveal his heart of gold.
So I can see no other solution than to not make a list unless you wish to end up with someone who has nothing in common with you and who annoys you more often than not. Don’t make it that easy for the fates to toy with you by listing out what you are looking for; find it, hold on to it and don’t let the universe take it away.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
All Fired Up
Today I have been highly entertained by a discussion/argument between two strangers on Twitter. On one side you have the ever witty, funny, and often graphic Kevin Smith. On the other side is a bat shit crazy chick named Megan Phelps. Basically this girl has been spouting off all types of close minded bigotness and somehow Kevin Smith was brought into all of this (though I am unclear how). They have argued back and forth all day which has been both disturbing and hilarious at times.
However, when I started thinking about the real issues behind the argument on my way home from work today I have to wonder, how different would the world be if people were a little less into their religions? Throughout the course of the world how many people have died over their religious convictions? Better yet how many people have killed another person because they didn't agree with their religious conviction? I have to ask, is it all worth it?
Perhaps, if people were just a bit less intense in their beliefs they would be able to see that there is always another point of view. Which religions or beliefs are correct is impossible to determine, so why can't people believe whatever it is that they believe and let others do the same? Why must there be a constant strive to make everyone else share your beliefs? Basically, I think people need to stop shoving their religion down everyone else's throat, the world would be a better, happier, more peaceful place.
However, when I started thinking about the real issues behind the argument on my way home from work today I have to wonder, how different would the world be if people were a little less into their religions? Throughout the course of the world how many people have died over their religious convictions? Better yet how many people have killed another person because they didn't agree with their religious conviction? I have to ask, is it all worth it?
Perhaps, if people were just a bit less intense in their beliefs they would be able to see that there is always another point of view. Which religions or beliefs are correct is impossible to determine, so why can't people believe whatever it is that they believe and let others do the same? Why must there be a constant strive to make everyone else share your beliefs? Basically, I think people need to stop shoving their religion down everyone else's throat, the world would be a better, happier, more peaceful place.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
