I’m Tired Of This Answer

I want you to know that it’s my fault, not yours, son. I knew I was letting you stay up too late, but you were having so much fun playing with your “grandmama,” and since she’s only visiting for a limited time, I thought, “Why not?”

At one o’clock you answered that question for your mother (as well as your grandmama).

At two o’clock you answered that question for your mother (as well as your grandmama) again.

At three o’clock you answered that question for your mother, your grandmama, me, and the puppy.

Consider the questions answered, son, and let’s not do this again at four o’clock, okay?

Playing With Fire

Lots of people start out with dreams of setting the world on fire . . . then they get burnt.

Many give up at that point, and some persevere, but only a few pause to reconsider all the things “setting the world on fire” can mean, and proceed more carefully after that.

Sometimes the better dream is not setting the world on fire.

Maya Angelou, R.I.P.

I would be remiss if I didn’t pause to note the passing of Maya Angelou, so this candle is for her. As she has already written so eloquently of her life, I shall say no more.

Zen And The Art Of Phone Calls

One of the greatest pieces of advice I’ve ever been given was “Learn how to not answer your phone.”

Musings On A Memorial Day

We do not live in a tolerant age. Of all the rallying cries the early 21st century will be remembered for, “live and let live” will most certainly not be among them. In fact, as I watch even the self-appointed “champions” of tolerance becoming themselves more and more intolerant, I can think of no philosophy that better sums up the antithesis of everything this century has stood for so far than “live and let live.”

Ah well, it’s never been a terribly popular philosophy, now has it?

Yes, it’s had its localized renaissances and resurgences here and there, but never enough to truly call it “popular,” and yes, I know things have gotten better than they used to be. At least these days it’s not in vogue anymore to actually kill those who “aren’t like us,” and that is progress. Mind you, as cultural achievements go, “not murdering, merely despising,” isn’t much to brag about.

I’ll grant it’s a start though . . . and besides, who knows? This century is still young, and it’s within the realm of possibility that I’ll yet live to see a better age dawn. It’d help if people would start working on their tolerance skills now though, since while I’m planning on living a long, long time, I’m not planning on living forever.

And some day time is going to run out.

And I Can Easily Imagine Why

While heading off to do this entry today, I admitted to the room that I wasn’t yet sure what I was going to write.

“I thought you always just wrote what you were thinking about,” L’s Mother said with a smirk as she struck a pose best described as “teasing, but promising.”

“I do!” I replied. “But right now what I’m thinking about doesn’t involve writing!”

Someday I Hope To Get A Better Answer

Some days I stop and ask myself if humanity has always been this bad at getting along.

The answer, sadly enough, always seems to be “yes,” but I keep asking anyway.

Crisis Counseling

I can see someone without children thinking parents were insane for their definition of “crisis,” but it creates an instant bond between parents, particularly of toddlers.

– Lala’s response to my informing her that L. and I were in the middle of a “minor crisis” due to some missing train track pieces.

But That’s Irony For You

Despite my admittedly dim view of certain individual examples of the human species, humanity as a whole has always impressed me with its ingenuity and its audacity. Time and time again humanity has used these two traits to surmount challenges that other species would have found flatly insurmountable.

Which is why it is so ironic how likely it is that the ultimate doom of humanity will someday be brought about by that very same ingenuity and audacity.

Connections

Sometimes I wonder about connections . . . the ones we notice, the ones we don’t, and the ones we think we notice, but aren’t really there.

For instance, the other day I took L. out to buy him a cookie (and to give his mother a chance for some quiet in the process). On our way we saw a puppy, stopped to chat with puppy and owner, then made our way to the shop. When we got there though, L. didn’t want a cookie anymore, he wanted a muffin. It was all the same to me, so I got him a muffin and we just hung out for a while. It was only well after we’d gotten home again that I suddenly remembered the puppy’s name.

It was Muffin.