Monday, June 20, 2011

Schrödinger's Cat Is Gray

Setting: The Dark Times
Plot: Teach Him Anger
Narrative Device: My Greatest Failure
Hero: Smith Of The Yard
Villain: Mister Danger
Character As Device: Mysterious Past
Characterization Device: Mysterious Past
I've got to admit it's getting better (Better)
A little better all the time (It can't get no worse)

The Beatles
Once upon a time, in a beautiful far-off kingdom, everything was perfect. In the beginning, we were in Paradise, then we got kicked out. Back then, when people were closer to creatures and creatures were closer to people...

I'm sure you get the point.

That's supposed to be a comforting little tale. Everything was perfect, and now it's not, and here's why. Neat and tidy. Every bit of suffering can be traced back to this event, with maybe some build-up before the tipping point.

Yeah. Right. There never was a perfect time.

Oh, for the love of--quit that look, would ya? Honestly. Mine's brighter, y'know. Ooh, everything was perfect and now it never will be again--give me a break. The world's getting better. We can help people we couldn't before, and we're helping them.

Don't ask my name. It wouldn't mean anything to you. Or rather, it would, but you wouldn't believe me, which is almost the same thing. Like if I say I'm Sherlock Holmes, or Scarlett Johansson. It doesn't even cross your mind to believe me, so the declaration means nothing except that I'm not trustworthy.

There are points in time where things do get worse, of course. See bubonic plague, Dark Ages, or people fighting progress out of a desire to make the old patterns fit. Even if the old patterns mean more people die, more people are terrified, more people are hurt. Not that all changes are good, either. Progress is always change; change is not always progress. I learned that pretty hard.

I'm rambling. But what else do I do here? I don't even know why I'm dictating this. I told you, if I said who I am then you wouldn't believe me. Hm (laugh). I suppose that actually gives you a better chance, doesn't it? If I say I'm Ms. Johansson, then you wouldn't believe me. But if I simply tell you I'm famous, and perhaps drop some hints--for instance, I happen to be male, and you know me, and I dictate like I converse--then maybe you work it out on your own. We trust our own minds first. Probably because we think we know if we're tricking ourselves, or perhaps just don't want to think of the alternative.

And still rambling. I guess, I just want to say...don't assume. People tend to filter things; childhood is overexposed from remembering too much; weird shades jump out. We could sleep in the backseat and trust the adults to figure it all out. Goes through the filter, maybe we think it was a better time when we were just younger, with fewer responsibilities, or more power, or both. Maybe it just looks better because it isn't here. But it's all but impossible to simply go back by trying to force the pieces back together. Things change. Or it's like putting someone on a pedestal: someone can be predominantly good and still have flaws. An era can be golden and still have room to grow. All we can do is be the growth. Fighting growth because the tree was better as a sapling can maybe give you a bonsai, or a perfectly groomed tree. But you can't bring back the sapling unless you grow a new seed.

By default: Stay in school and eat your vegetables. And if inspiration grabs your collar and pulls, roll with absolutely everything and shine bright' as you can.

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