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Even Gary looks sad to me. I hope she’s ok… I’m assuming she’s off reading, doing chores or working on something else, and just forgot that she’d said that she would be “back in a sec”.

I’m feeling a little sad today. Things aren’t clicking the way they should, and it’s depressing me.

{update} She got sick! 🙁 poor thing had a worse day than me… I *knew* something was up. stupid me for whining about little things.

Can you know the mighty ocean? Can you lasso a star from the sky? Can you say to a rainbow ‘Hey, stop being a rainbow for a second’? No! such is Mango!

Can you catch a falling star without burning your hand? Can you put the sky in your mouth? Can you say to an earthquake…’Hey hold still for a Second’? No! Such is Mango!

Can you take the blue from the sky? Can you put the wind in your pocket? Can you catch a rainbow? No! Such is Mango!

Mango is like a drug. You must have more and more and more of the Mango until there is no Mango left. Not even for Mango!

My Evil twin – TMBG

My evil twin, bad weather friend
He always wants to start when I want to begin
It scares me so, like I scare myself
With that book of Nostradamus up upon my shelf

Playing hangman ’til the morning light
Doing donuts on the neighbors lawn
Then sleep all through the day, get up and start again
I can hear some sirens somewhere but I don’t know why

My evil twin runs home again
Search lights look for an alibi, but I’ll be home by then

Here he comes again, my evil twin
My friends have seen him hiding underneath my skin

Who cut the arm off the voodoo doll
That resembles a Republican president from long ago
I’d hate to see you leave
‘Cause I have grown so grateful for the
Blame you save me from

My twin
My twin
My twin

(My twin) I know he looks like me
(My twin) Hates work like me and walks like me
(My twin) He’s even got a twin like me

My evil twin, bad weather friend
I know some day I’ll meet him
But I don’t know where or when

robotech theme page


Perceptive. Butterfly. I’d like the vulgar, in
emotional one closer to reason and her heart
and vivid imagery. Oh, nap time. That’s currently
in the stupid, Scotto, rainbows and desire: both;
spikes and trees hiding spring loaded scything blades;
force, some wild rabbits that children to be
have to some dirt makeup and is a walk
up at home, and made of discord.

This is Scotto, signing off… g’nite!

Tornado warning here until 3! Grey skies, whipping winds, heavy rain.. oh nap time, wherefore art thou?

{update – the warning has passed.}
Pompano Beach, FL (33062) as reported at Pompano Beach, FL. Last updated Thursday, September 27, at 1:46 PM Eastern Daylight Time

Light Rain 81 °F Feels Like: 89 °F

UV Index: 6 Moderate
Wind: From the East at 8 mph
Dew Point: 79 °F
Humidity: 94 %
Visibility: 2.00 miles
Barometer: 29.92 inches and falling

There is such a thing as bittersweet, not just bitter and not just sweet.

Had an interesting difference of opinion. first, a breakdown for those folks that have never read the story.

The Velveteen Rabbit

One Christmas day a young boy was given a brown and white spotted velveteen rabbit with pink sateen ears. The rabbit was forgotten for awhile, but when the boy rediscovered him, the rabbit and boy became inseparable. Fancier toys teased the Velveteen Rabbit because he was only made of velveteen and stuffed with old sawdust. However, his friend, the wise Skin Horse, told him about Nursery Magic that would make him real if he was loved by a child and gave love in return.
As time went on the Velveteen Rabbit’s beautiful fur became shabby, his tail began to come apart and all the pink came off his nose where the boy kissed him. One day the boy told his Nana that the rabbit was real. The rabbit was so happy to be real that he never noticed his appearance and his eyes shown with a look of wisdom and beauty. He told some wild rabbits that he was real, but they teased him and made him sad.

Then the boy became ill and the rabbit stayed by his side. When the boy was well, the doctor ordered that all the toys be burned because of germs. The rabbit was sad and a tear trickled down his nose to the ground. Where the tear fell, a flower grew. The blossom opened and out stepped the lovely Fairy of Nursery Magic, who takes all the old, loved and worn out playthings that children no longer need and makes them real. The rabbit had only been real to the boy. The fairy took him in her arms and flew him to a place in the woods where there were other rabbits. She kissed him and told him to run and play. The Velveteen Rabbit became a real, live rabbit.

Ok… that’s the gist of the tale, less many the beautiful words and images that it contains. I reccomend it as part of a childs bookshelf, and it has a special meaning to me.

Another LJer I was talking to elsewhere said “I can’t believe that we subject children to depressing stories like that.

I personally think it’s a wonderful tale about love and the growing that comes from being loved. (see the sonnet, previous, too.) There are some sad parts, like when the boy is separated from something he loves so much, but overall, it’s a marvellous tale, and memory from my childhood.

Somehow the person I was conversing with it about totally missed the point… I feel that children benefit more if shown in a soft way some of the way life works ahead of time, they adjust better than if they get fed the mostly pointless “Barney the dinosaur, no drama ever happens” school of storytelling. It’s a question of taste, and position, I guess. In any event, I’m not going to bother pointing my world view at him anymore as he’s too traumatized by the story to hear it.

His sort of thinking has been a mild irritant to me… his opinion in general doesn’t matter, but when it becomes that of the majority, and will affect how I ultimately raise a child… then I begin to be disturbed by it. I credit some of my common sense and ability to reason to being subjected to a good mix of reality as a kid, not just the “everything is rainbows and cherubs” idea that’s currently in vogue. You don’t have to tell the story of “How Little Billy lost his legs to an Axe Murderer” either.

A balance can be struck. Fairies can be about granting wishes, playing tricks or warning of a coming tragedy. Besides, a story without some conflict makes it look like the hero got off too easy.

Dream last night, fragment.

I was back, living at home, and my folks were together… I must’ve been about 14, I guess. It was late, and I was up for some reason, and I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye… I looked to investigate, and saw a tripwire made out to dental floss… I followed the string to a bomb… a ridiculously large blasting cap attached to a 2 or 3 lb bit of c4… crazy amounts of explosive…I think that’s enough to level a city block or something. My dad’s signature was on the clay…I looked up and saw him high-tailing it from the room. My mom was sleeping in the other room, unaware of the whole situation… I woke up my brother, and her… we left the house and it collapsed shortly thereafter.. weird booby traps were all over the neighborhood, pits filled with spikes and trees hiding spring-loaded scything blades…. I recall escaping into the jungle, but I don’t know where my mom and brother went… it didn’t occur to me to note them missing at the time.

Ended up at the beach, my beach, not the one by the old house.

That’s all I remember.