"We talk about being able 'to control ourselves,' but self-control is a rare and remarkable virtue. We may think we have ourselves under control; yet a friend can easily tell us things about ourselves of which we have no knowledge."
What is it about time-lapsed cloud movement that tears me apart?
The vampire bat drinks blood, yes, though moves so slowly and carefully that his prey, often a sleeping cow, never notices it is being accessed.
No one would save up to have a surgery to unnecessarily remove a lung, in order to disable himself, though many people use large portions of their paychecks to facilitate a habit that leads to a similar outcome.
There are those at the pool who dive in without testing the temperature, like myself, while others gradually submerge, growing accustomed to the water as they descend the steps, prolonging the inevitable.
A film trick in comedy is to speed up the scene, in turn making the characters seem more delirious and chaotic.
Often disasters are recalled in slow motion; an expensive vase shattering, a car spinning out of control on black ice. Timing is everything.
I ridiculously try to piece things together, force them to make sense, but they sit as comfortably as Barbie on her motorcycle.
Fools rush in. Life is too short. Stop to smell yr rosebuds while ye may. Patience is a virtue. Carpe the diem while the iron is hot.
And what constitutes carpeing the diem? If it is silently and harshly judging people from the window of my ratty Toyota, then I have done so today in the back-to-school traffic. Shopping class supplies and new shoes. A's feet are now bigger than mine. He is so proud. Keep growing child, o, the errands I have in store for you.
An industrious and semi-relaxing weekend. There was an arresting movie at the Paramount, running around a fountain, climbing on stuff, skipping down Congress, many laundries and a quick and chatterly visit to a long lost friend who's next door neighbor's new baby tried three time to nurse from me, twice waiting for a few seconds and then lunging at a breast as though she could catch me unawares. I have a counter move, where I turn and give her my shoulder instead. She furrows her brow, foiled again. Breastfed babies got no pride.
My littles sleep now, their clothes laid out for tomorrow. The apartment is rarely clean, my book is delicious, and the wine is well deserved. Praise be.