To continue yesterday’s thought, the recent Supreme Court decision has profoundly affected people I know, of course. It has made some of them very happy, it has made others very UNhappy, and seems to have left those not on either end of those extremes with a general sense of bemusement.
In other words, a fairly standard human reaction to any kind of change.
Honestly, I gave serious consideration to not broaching this subject since my opinion, while not unique, appears to be decidedly in the minority, but here goes:
So how does the recent Supreme Court decision on marriage affect me personally?
Not in the slightest.
Yesterday’s post prompted at least one person to wax philosophical with me on the realistic “lifespan” of a good story, and he put it at roughly eighty years, the same period of time that on average it takes for the last person to have known you personally before you died to themselves die. (He was quoting someone else, but couldn’t find the quote. Perhaps I’ll look for it later, but right now finding it would be beside the point.)
Thinking about it, that sounds about right to me.
Of course sometimes, VERY rarely, an author gets to have their work read hundreds of years after their deaths, but as in the majority of cases it’s probably being read by bored schoolchildren forced to do so, this is less than a desirable outcome for most people. On that note, let me reiterate, Please don’t ever use my writings to bore children . . . while teaching them English or otherwise! There is one, and only one exception I will make for this:
If I am the one telling the children in 2099 or beyond to open their telepathic hologramatic interfaces to the works of Robert Alan, then I’ll allow it.
Sometimes it amazes me how many prolific and once famous authors are out there that almost nobody has ever heard of these days, much less read. Sometimes out of literally hundreds of works, an author is remembered, if they are remembered at all, for a handful of sentences at best.
If that’s the future legacy, so to speak, that most authors can look forward to, why bother? More specifically, why do *I* bother?
Meh . . . because it amuses me in the now.
(I’m not just being flippant here, by the way. This was my actual thought process from this morning.)
Yesterday I stumbled across a favorite movie of mine, Mister Frost. Now if you haven’t seen it (and odds are you probably haven’t), it’s a difficult movie to describe. it’s certainly not everyone’s cup of tea, and not in the “you either love it or hate it” sense either, but more in the “you are either enthralled by it . . . or bored by it.” And even though I like the movie, a quick re-viewing of some key scenes reminded me how much I found it “over-stylized” at points, particularly in some uses of lighting and soundtrack, as well as in at least one “excessive use of overdramatic close-ups of over-horrified faces” scene.
Even so, I remain enthralled by this movie, but it’s definitely not done in your “average” movie style, and that got me thinking . . .
I saw several reviewers criticizing (and sometimes even mocking) this movie for its off-beat style, but I’ve also noticed how harshly movies are criticized these days for being “just another standard _______ from the studios.” (You know, those movies that people talk about hating, but make lots and lots of money.)
Sometimes people just want things both ways, I suppose, even when having it both ways is mutually exclusive.
I do not believe in a fate that falls on men however they act; but I do believe in a fate that falls on them unless they act.
Be woken up by son in the morning. Check.
Set up sprinkler for son to play in, only to be informed by him that he’d rather play on the computer. Check.
Get angry. Check.
Remind myself not to be “that Dad.” Check.
Put away sprinkler while telling my son he can do what he wants . . . provided it’s not on the computer because he’s been spending too much time on the computer again and he probably shouldn’t have reminded me of that. Check.
Cut myself some slack for being “that Dad” because he really has been spending too much time on the computer lately. Check.
Delay calling my own father for Father’s Day because my son is having an emotional meltdown over not being allowed on the computer. Check.
Wait ten minutes, then play trains with now happy son who gleefully keeps stealing any train I try to play with so he can hide it from me. Check.
Recognize that dripping sound is NOT a good thing. Check.
Tell my son now he can play on the computer while I check . . . yep, that looks like a clogged condensate drain to me. Check.
Be grateful that I know what the hell that is. Check.
Go out and buy myself a wet vac because A) I should really have one anyway, and B) It’ll still be cheaper than calling a repairman. Check.
Use my new wet vac to suck out a gallon of algae clogged water from my AC system. Check.
Realize I have just had the archetypical Father’s Day. Check.
There’s one way to find out if a man is honest – ask him. If he says, ‘Yes,’ you know he is a crook.
The ability to see when someone’s “into” you, and when they’re NOT into you; The ability to see whether it’s time to speak up, shut up, or just change the subject . . .
(I’m probably pushing the logical parameters of this power with that last one, but that’s such a comic book tradition that I’m comfortable with that.)
When I was younger I dreamt of having any or all of the “standard” array of superpowers (i.e., Flight, Super Strength, Invulnerability, Invisibility, etc.), but these days I’d trade all of those in for something really useful like the ability to let others see that which might otherwise be invisible to them (i.e., The mess they made that they need to clean up, Why it’s important to tip your sever, What their favored politician really stands for, etc.)
Candles & Curses 