Saturday, June 28, 2014

Film at 11



I’m guessing that our view of Life is influenced greatly by our particular vantage point.  The folks living on top of the mountain better understand the weather at the beach than those living in the valley.  From the mountaintop one can easily see that this morning the beach is fogged in, whereas those in the valley must rely upon second and third hand reports.

          I have a very simplistic view of Life.  It is one that leaves no room for television news reports, newspapers, etc.  I tend to see my life as a beginning point, a lengthy middle duration, and an ending point.  It is with that in mind that I opt to fill the middle section with only good news, fun, friends, and as much laughter as possible.  To fill the middle section with reports of war, Man’s inhumanity to Man, murders, and mayhem seems a horrid waste of time.  I would sooner fill my days with the demon Rum.  But that’s a report for another day.

          Nurturing news avoidance is a full time job as there are always those who can’t wait to share some vile tidbit they have just come across.  Of course I can’t recommend this lifestyle as it does have its drawbacks.  I am often noticeably quiet at gatherings as others talk about current events, such as they are.

          I have tried many times to abruptly redirect conversations.  Sometimes I’ll inject a humorous twist, hoping to break the dismal chatter.  Other times I approach it using a one-ups-man ship technique, taunting each dreadful story with a tale more hideous than the last, but obviously fabricated.  Sometimes it works, and sometimes I get the skunk-eye, suggesting that if I can’t contribute to the conversation, I should just remain quiet.

          So as you can see, it is not all pastels and Bonbons.   The vantage point I have requires constant tending and tact. 

          My perch is not a unique one for occasionally I’ll encounter another quiet soul at a gathering.  I immediately recognize the facial expression.  It is one of anguish.  A fawn being forced to watch Bambie’s Mother burn up in the cartoon forest fire, over and over again

          So why have I lit upon this branch?  It was never a choice.  It is an internal part of my makeup.  It sits adjacent to my love for all creatures, and next to, but falling a little short of understanding.   

          An odd topic for this blog, but I think one that sheds a modicum of light on Zobostic Corwin.  After all, if you are to read the blathering of a mental flibbertigibbet, it might serve you well to understand the elevation from whence he blathers, and to note that on occasion, he may be a little fogged in. 



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