Thanks. I’m glad you are still there, and that my out of practice communications are not as clutzy as they feel. I think it may be Felix who makes you smile. I’m just his interpreter. You do smile beautifully, though, through your eyes, and now through fingertips dancing on a keyboard.
Gratuitous suggestion: keep going, breathing slowly, in the present, working, studying, but not too hard, not punishing yourself. Also eat, exercise, sleep. Balance will return, in good time.
I’ll be in touch again, so we can get together later.
Have I introduced you to Priscilla the Principled Puffin? Here channelling her cousin the Wonderful Cat, getting on with it, walking, clearing her head, solving another mystery …
Do you feel like a chainstore?
I don’t hate you. You’re not worth that much energy.
If I had to, I would liken you to how I feel about slugs; my least favourite creature. They bother me a little, but I don’t spend too much time thinking about them, and if someone was to step on one, I don’t mind.
Though they, like you, do make a bit of a mess.
Twitter has perpetuated our seemingly intrinsic need for cliques. What better format for the smart & socially awkward than a screen and 140 characters to hide behind; and when part of a clique, the joy! It is easier. It is a weapon. Clever and not so clever alike are so easily directed. If the person/s you admire think something is noteworthy, you no longer have to critically evaluate if you as an individual does also. You simply RT/agree, and reference every subsequent interaction with the subtext, knowing all ‘in the know’ will get it, fulfilling your and their needs.
Because, finally, you belong.
Or you make a show of not agreeing, and storify it.
The good, I enjoy. Feeling part of a community who shares things of worth and beauty, who contribute and build. The nasty, who humiliate and ostracise I can do without. Troll Thursday etc. We are years beyond that behaviour. Adults, we are doing it wrong.
i turned vegetarian whn i read “Animal Farm”. shocking expose of Commie beasts. turns out all meat is “Red”. well, i wont eat it
We’re fickle, stupid beings with poor memories and a great gift for self-destruction. — Suzanne Collins, Mockingjay
n. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet—a school hallway in the evening, an unlit office on a weekend, vacant fairgrounds—an emotional afterimage that makes it seem not just empty but hyper-empty, with a total population in the negative, who are so conspicuously absent they glow like neon signs.
Remembering chalk rainbows for light and love, not hurt and heartbreak. #DYIrainbow
“Watching you walk out of my life doesn’t make me bitter or cynical about love. It makes me realize that if I wanted so much to be with the wrong person, how amazing it will be when the right one comes along.”
This beautiful animal is Red-bellied short-necked turtle. It is found in Australia and Papua New Guinea, and in Australia it is highly endangered. These stunning colours are highly pronounced as infants and juveniles, but fade as they age. They reach about ten inches (25cm) in length.
Today as well as other non-fiction, I’ve been detailing a pathetic story of cheating, abandonment, denial and desolation.
The protagonist is a once-great man turned child, on a campaign for popularity. On some level he is aware of this retrogression, and its reasons, but ignores it ashamed. He dupes many around him, because he never really shows himself. Those that knew him before though, are not fooled. They see the slide, try to help. But the once-great man turned child will not listen. Suddenly aware others are aware of his void he lies, pretends, and when found out, retaliates, and casts them aside. He exults, thinking himself free, and is over enthusiastic, convincing himself he has come out on top. He cloaks himself with people who still believe him great, who think the same way, so not only does he not learn and grow, but he regresses to a point he can no longer see greatness. He is content with the benign. Happy even, for he knows nothing else now. He uses his once-great words often and exuberantly- and those who were once impressed because they didn’t understand, now see the words are hollow, void, shells. Representational of what he has become. As the de-evolution continues his words- the one thing he was known for- become dribble. In the end, no one is fooled, and he is alone.
The book was better
Experience as well as common sense indicated that the most reliable method of avoiding self-extinction was not to equip oneself with the means to accomplish it in the first place. — Iain M Banks, Consider Phlebas