I tried drawing a cupcake last week, and I was not satisfied.
It looked like a muffin with a crap on it. I put a cherry on top.
I'll try again now, because I am just. That. Happy.
Good Enough.
Today's moment of bliss was fantastic. I found it in the FAQ at Less wrong, after reading something, writing something, and stumbling across three our four more pages.
These are today's words of bliss:
"... there's nothing in the laws of physics that prevents reality from sounding weird."
.
.
.
.
That white space is so you can take a moment to share my bliss. You probably don't feel it the same way I did. I built it up too much. I was setting up your expectations.
Now I'm going to subvert them.
It's going to be a bummer.
I'm sorry.
Don't worry though, if you keep looking, you, too, will occasionally find a moment of bliss.
.
Inside and outside of my head lately, the subjects of sacrifice and bravery keep coming up.
I'm pretty sure I could stand up to do either, or both. If I needed to.
But I don't want to need to.
Lots of people have ghosts. I have been collecting them since before I was born.
My first half brother died first. Before I was born. In Vietnam. Maybe from burns.
My third half brother died second. In Seattle. Trying to delay a killer from achieving his goal of killing someone else. Who wasn't even in the house.
My second half brother died third. From renal cancer. He stood up and participated in research to find a cure. I kind of wish he had put his faith in Duran Duran.
Lots of other people have died. So that others could live. Here, on this planet, which is pretty cool.
Most of them I have never met.
I mention Duran Duran because there is a woman named Jenny, who, when she was a girl, developed Leukemia. She put her faith in Modern Science AND Duran Duran, and she still lives.
When I was a girl, my aunt developed leukemia too. She was named Jenny too. She died when I was 14. A few months before this other Jenny was diagnosed. They both have/had beautiful long dark hair.
The other day there was another gunman, and some guy heard a shot, and dropped to the ground. Then he figured if he stood up, he might give a couple of women (or a woman and her child) time to get out of the way. So he did. And he heard nine more shots. And he lived. Or so I hear. I didn't read the article I have linked here.
Frankly, this is great news! Bravery is finally paying off!
Or is it bravery and faith?
Trust me, I am not trying to say Duran Duran is God. But I am a big fan of the placebo effect.
I'm really not a fan of telling sick people it's their own fault if they don't get better. It really does not seem helpful. It makes me very uncomfortable.
This is more of my 'life isn't fair' and 'you call THIS a plan' cry for solace.
It is disturbing to think that sick people should have more determination. Or faith in 'the force'. Or more love for their fellow men. Or anything. And it might not matter what.
Because in my heart, I know sick people deserve better.
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