Thank You Sir May I Have Another

A couple of years ago I got this most excellent birthday card from Cerrena. It had this old lady on the front, and when you open it up, you got the audio track from Animal House - Thwack! Thank you sir may I have another? Thwack! Thank you sir may I have another? Thwack! Thank you sir may I have another? Becoming more strained each time. I keep it in my office today and am surprised by how often I'm compelled to open it up.

And then it occured to me. We're brought into this world like that. Kicked out of a nice, comfortable, safe and warm place, only to get the bright lights, cold air, and Thwack! And so it starts.

Sometimes life can seem like an endless series of Thwacks. And for some strange reason, we keep coming back for more. We might endure the hardship for some ethical or altruistic reason, or for some bizarre reason we've convinced ourselves we deserve it. But typically, it's all for a reward of some kind at the end. And it's true, the rewards that come after expense of effort are usually the only ones that feel earned.

Sometimes we do it for acceptance. Like the hazing in Animal House, we truckle to the will of others for some twisted reward. We trust them. We stand at the edge of the roof, cinder block in hand. One end of the rope tied to the block, the other to our testacles. We trust the rope is long enough to reach the ground as we toss the block over the edge. And you REALLY hope you miss the open manhole on the ground.

I take comfort knowing the birthday card delivers only three Thwacks, and all thwacking comes to an end sooner or later. Occasionally though, it's good to step back and ask if you really want another.

Riding the Big Wheel

I noticed recently a dearth of posting material occurring in the daily activities of Your Humble Narrator. Nothing could be done about it. It just was. That usually means nothing out of the ordinary was presenting itself (although it most certainly was occurring). But this is not to say the wheel has not been turning, nor the hamster dead.

I have been cultivating. My son revealed to me The Modern Library, where one can find the list of the 100 Best Novels - as judged by The Panel, and a second list prepared by The Readers.

I decided my lack of literary exposure was yet another "symbol of a misspent youth" (a favorite phrase of my father's) and it was time to rectify the situation. I have embarked on a quest to read them all. Recent conquests include Ulysses, The Grapes of Wrath, The Sound and the Fury, Slaughterhouse Five, As I Lay Dying and Brave New World. Next up: The Great Gatsby.  So I'm making headway...on the list at least.

I've also been spending a little more time at work the last couple of weeks following a promotion. Just an hour here and there, but I have come to value those hours above all the others. I'm past the point where I feel the need to continue seeking 'higher employment' but I recognize that with complacency comes stagnation, so I stepped on the wheel yet again, but this time committed to do so on my terms.

So the antennae are extended against the resurfacing of some of my basic character defects: Obsession. Isolation. Detachment. Preoccupation. Aha! Probably the very reason I haven't noticed anything worth writing about.