We are having an end of March snow day. I don’t feel like talking about it.
Normally I wait until the end of April to do our income taxes, but this year I thought I’d get it over with and make the end of March our new deadline so I downloaded the software and got started. Then I got fed up seeing how much money I’m making for the government and decided to take a break. The break turned out to be a really long one.
I’m still on it. It’s still snowing. I do have something sort of I interesting to put in this post, I just wanted to make you wait for it.
I don’t really get the last one but the picture is fun. Maybe I’ve already taken that walk. Cabin fever is a powerful thing. But my house is warm and the days are long. And the sun will come up tomorrow.
I missed answering the promptless prompt last week about retrocausality (“can the future affect the present, and can the present affect the past?”) because, frankly, it confused the hell out of me. I took one set of philosophy classes in my life where everyone sat around a table and argued themselves in bewildering circles, and that was enough with the thought experiments for this poor befuddled little brain. I passed the course, by the way. I found out I could say any bizarre thing I wanted and the rest of them (including I guess the professor marking the final exam) would be properly astounded by my deep thoughts.
Well, my thoughts aren’t that deep anymore. Sometimes I believe we think entirely too long and hard about things and that’s why we get headaches and are all crazy as loons.
Which brings me to the promptless prompt for this week – L’appel du vide is French and translates to “Call of the Void”. It is the unexplainable urge to jump when standing on the edge of a cliff, or tall height. It can be considered a form of self-destructive ideation, or a protective instinct to let the brain play out what the body should not. It’s definition has been expanded to describe responding mentally to the call of the siren song– whether that means the desire to reach into a fire, drive into a wall, or walk into the eye of the storm.
See? Bat shit crazy. With death wishes. Not a great combination for the survival of our species, is it?
I am going to be alive (although perhaps just barely) in the year 2040. (A psychic told me this, if you’re wondering how I came up with it.) I believe the reason for my longevity will revolve around the fact that I am a gutless wimp. I have never in my life experienced the urge to jump off a cliff. I do not reach into fires. I crawl under my bed when there’s a storm.
Okay, I made that last bit up, but I certainly don’t go out for a stroll during a tornado watch or drive my car at breakneck speeds like all the other lunatics out there. Or jump out of airplanes. Or engage in any activity that has the potential to cause physical pain. Like hot yoga or housework.
Even in my head or my dreams I never do anything even vaguely adventurous. I do not understand extreme sports like mountain climbing, or taking unnecessary risks or the mindset behind any of that stuff. I think roller coasters are stupid. I had an adrenaline rush once, but it was from a cortisone injection in the bottom of my foot and completely by accident on my part. I thought I might be having a heart attack but the doctor said it was a normal reaction to the shot, and kind of rolled his eyes when I suggested he might have warned me. I never went back to him.
I don’t even answer the doorbell or the phone if I’m not expecting a visitor or a call. So the voidcan call me all it wants – it will get no response from this chicken-hearted scaredy-cat with a brain that can’t fathom the worst case scenario and has little desire to try.
Logomania is defined as an obsessive interest in words or, alternatively, excessive and often incoherent talking.
I’ve been away on a holiday and missed last week’s Prompt for the Promptless,. This one is very late but I could not pass it up because it immediately reminded me of “Finnegans Wake” by James Joyce. Logomania in book form! By the ultimate logomaniac!
Here’s just one lovely little example.
“And there she was right enough, that lovely sight enough, the girleen bawn asthore, as for days galore, of planxty Gregory.”
An average of four words per sentence that you have to look up sounds about right. And even then you could be completely in the dark as to what it all might possibly mean. Maybe it doesn’t mean a thing, and it’s just soothing to listen to a crazy Irishman with amazing furor loquendi spewing beautiful blarney,
The clock is ticking down on this weekends Trifecta challenge – exactly 33 words written in first person narrative. Ha – how simple should this be, since I do it here every day. It is forever and always, ad infinitum, all about me, me and me. And then a bit more about me. The hard part of course is saying something worth saying in just 33 words. That’s probably why they call it a challenge.
Maybe I’m reading too many books, watching too many movies, sleeping too fitfully, reading too many blogs…(no, never that….) but for whatever reason I’ve been dreaming completely bizarre things lately and waking up with most of the details still in my head for longer than can possibly be healthy. I should be writing them down I suppose and analyzing them to death but then I might have to conclude that I’m insane, and who needs that? Best to leave it as merely a possibility than to prove it outright.
I wrote something a long time ago about lucid dreaming, but I can’t find it so I don’t know if I’m repeating myself or not. Lucid dreams are pretty normal for me. I know I’m dreaming and I can either just watch what’s happening or I can influence and even control what happens next. This is why I rarely have nightmares – if things start going wrong I take them in a different direction, or I wake myself up. Then sometimes I go back to sleep and start the dream over to make it better. Mostly I just let dreams happen to see where they want to go. But I almost always know it’s only a dream.
The good new is, I don’t have hallucinations when I’m awake, and I’ve never had an out-of-body experience involving astral projection. Although if I wanted to I could probably make myself dream such a thing. I’m too scared to attempt it.
Instead I have vivid dreams about people who have split up getting happily back together. People who have serious problems suddenly just not having them anymore. People who have had strokes and are in wheelchairs getting up and walking away simply to take a break from all that sitting down. People who have died deciding they’d like to come back to chat with me for awhile, so they do.
And it’s not really wishful thinking, because even in the dream I know it’s simply a what if scenario and will all revert back to the way it was or really is, sometimes even before I wake up. So why bother?
Well I think it’s some kind of test. Somebody out there is trying to tell me that life could be a dream sweetheart, sh-boom sh-boom. Or something to that effect. We all have the power within us to change what happens next. So why are we all just sitting around waiting to see what happens? And getting all anal about it when we don’t like it? Like it and accept it, or make it better. Those are your choices. If you really are certifiably insane, embrace your inner crazy. Life goes on. Make it whatever you want.
The Memory Palace by Mira Bartok is a book I’ve been slogging through for what seems like days and days and days. It’s interesting and well written, but I’m finding the subject matter thoroughly depressing and after a couple of chapters I have to set it down for a while and go off and do something else.
It’s the story of two sisters and their tormented relationship with a schizophrenic mother. There are breakdowns, suicide attempts, physical attacks, passionate outbursts. Eventually the craziness and the inability to get help (or for their mother to accept the fact that she needs it) drives the daughters away. They must physically abandon their mother to survive. The emotional ties are not so easily severed of course.
Apparently, according to the back cover, there’s an extraordinary reconciliation at the end when the daughters return to be with their mother before she dies. I haven’t gotten that far yet.
Mental illness can be a terrifying thing if it can’t be diagnosed and treated and understood. All of us are a little bit crazy. Some of us more than others. It’s the ones who are completely out of it and have no idea there’s anything wrong who become a danger and a threat to the well-being of everyone around them.
It’s just all too sad for words. If you think you’re too happy and you want to do something about that, read this book.
Yesterday I went to see the first 3-D movie of my life. It was one of those spur of the moment things to decide to go at all and a last-minute decision as to which show to see.
So suddenly there we were, crazy glasses on, watching ParaNorman with things jumping off the screen into our faces.
There were some scary gruesome bits, so it might not be suitable for the very young, but kids quickly get to the age where they think it’s fun to be grossed out by ghosts and zombies. It’s a great bold story with a strong moral lesson. I don’t think it’s just for kids.
It’s dangerous to let me wander around unattended in the self-help section of a large bookstore. I get ideas. I bring them home, and then I share them.
I don’t think Mike Dooley will mind if I tell you to buy this book. And I don’t think you will be disappointed in my advice if you take it.
It won’t take up much of your time to read all of it, but if you’re anything at all like me, you’ll spend the same amount of time going back to the beginning and skipping through it one more time to re-read all the things that made you smile and laugh and feel truly amazed and so emotional you wanted to cry.
In a good way of course.
Now that I’ve read more notes I’ll read the original Notes from the Universe which I’ve downloaded to my kindle. Along with Leveraging the Universebecause I think these two books will be equally amazing and because I seem to like doing things in multiples of three; going backward or forward apparently doesn’t matter to me.
If you were here with me now I’d happily lend you this delightful little book to read for yourself.
Sharing a couple or three passages here will have to do for now. These are the pages I’ve stuck the book jacket flap between because the words touched me in a way I can’t explain. It’s a comforting thought to believe that souls come back to live again, and that we each choose our own circumstances before starting the next adventure. We won’t have any idea why we picked this particular life until it’s over and only then do we get to see what we’ve made of it, one way or another. Maybe it’s a little crazy to think that way, but on a crazy scale of one to ten I’d give it a middle of the road 5. People have believed way stranger things.
If these particular passages don’t speak to you in any profound way, don’t worry. There will likely be something in this book that does. Maybe lots of things. (Maybe nothing!) Maybe it will change your life. Maybe it won’t. Whatever you decide, it’s nice to have a choice.
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