"Hope is the thing with feathers"
Correction:
It's not a matter of moving on. Moving on is the easy part. I've done that already. Actually, I remember doing that a long time ago. It's finding ways to appreciate experiences and finding lessons in messes that takes time and effort. But at least I've found a flower in this shit of a situation. It's actually quite funny, really. Without this, what fodder would I have for my writing? This whole mishap was a Godsend. A fucking Godsend, I tell you!!! I thank both my lucky and unlucky stars that this fell into my open lap because in all honesty this is the funniest, most ridiculously genius situation that could possibly be presented to me (of all people!)
Am I ashamed? Am I embarrassed? Of course I am. How could I not be? At least I'm not too prideful to admit my shame and ultimately my poor and careless judge of character.
Now that I'm living off of the state of Michigan (although I am still rightfully employed), with days upon days free of responsibility and/or obligation, I can finally make shit happen (not, of course, the same shit I referred to previously) For example; I start my second attempt at composing a novella tomorrow morning. I'm also de-cluttering my world of many things that are merely collecting dust. The modeling thing? Yeah. I'm going to start working on that in a more pugnacious manner, too. It's time to get aggressive because now I know what I want and I know what I deserve; Happiness. Duh!
I bought Guatemalan worry dolls. I've been wearing them around my neck.
I bought an old photograph of a girl who shares the same hunger.
I ate a cactus.
I'm shooting a cover and spread for Real Detroit on Tuesday.
There has been, within the past 24 hours, a dramatic shift in my rotation. I need a gravitational push.
I am convinced that the birds are literally falling from the sky. Every where I go, there are fallen nests, birds with broken necks, abandoned eggs. I'm starting to think that they've forgotten how to fly. Or maybe the winds are not carrying them the same.
Are we not all just flightless birds?
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3 comments:
Do you know how hope came to be?
The greeks say that Epimethus, who had the gift of after-sight, that is to know the history of what has happened with great insight, Angered Zeus by aiding his brother prometheus in giving fire to humans.
Zeus punished Epimethus, and Epi was like "fuck you Zeus, I found a nice human girl and I am going to live with her in the village of humans, fucking be a prick here on the moutain."
I may be paraphrasing...
Anyways, he went to live with said chick and one day he had to leave her there and go do some shit. Well turns out Zeus waited for this and send the lady a box, with no hard feelings for Epi. He told her that by no means shall Epi open the box ever. Of course this was Pandora and the dumb bitch let curiocity get the best of her.
Box opens, all the worst things in humanity poured out, and she managed to close the box just in time to keep one thing in. She hid in the closet until Epi returned stunned at the carnage that has befell humanity.
Epi calmed her down, learned of the box and started deducing.
Well he figured, it would be best to let the final thing out and well that last thing was hope. People still argue to this day on why Zeus would put hope in the box with all the evils of the world?
Perhaps he had pitty for the Humans, or guilt for what he was going to do to them? Or perhaps hope is a bad thing, makes us wait for things to get better when they may not. It is an arguement for philosophers and the ages.
I will say that Prometheus flew with the flame to man kind. His punishment was for an eagle to eat his liver every day for the rest of eternity, only to have it grow back to be food for the bird again. Epimetheus stood on the ground while darkness decended. Perhaps we are but flightless birds.
Favorite blog comment.ever.
My favourite blog comment ever was yours thanking me for mine.
Thank you. Makes me smile kitten.
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