10 Wedgemere Road
Thank you to everyone who was part of the magic.
and the net will appear.
She was getting a little frustrated, almost angry, asking me again why I could get so sad sometimes.
“I get so happy sometimes, too,” I said.
“I know,” she said, “but why not stay that way? Why not be happy all the time, or almost all the time?”
“Because I’m in love with life.”
Her eyes lit up. She thought she had won the argument. She thought there was an argument. “Then as long as you’re alive, you should be happy.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think love works that way.”
I want you to know that you may have once said something very kind to me, or that you may yet someday say something like that, a word or thought that glows as it passes through the air to me, something simple like “Dad always said you were so talented,” or “Your smile makes my brain stop working,” and maybe I will have thanked you, or not, and maybe I will have smiled or otherwise responded in an appropriate way to let you know that I appreciate not just that you felt that way, or that he felt that way, but that you cared enough to share it with me, were brave enough to share it with me, or maybe I will not have responded much at all, but I want you to know that, later, months or years later perhaps, I will stop suddenly and have to sit down in my living room, because the mysterious circuitry of my mind will have recalled to me those words you shared and the feelings behind them, and I will hear them as clearly as if you were sitting here with me, and I will cry, I will have to wipe the tears from my eyes in order to make room for more, because the joy in my heart will not be able to burst out in any other way.
HENSLOWE Mr. Fennyman, allow me to explain about the theatre business. The natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster. FENNYMAN So what do we do? HENSLOWE Nothing. Strangely enough, it all turns out well. FENNYMAN How? HENSLOWE I don't know. It's a mystery. ~ from Shakespeare in Love
Check out the National Geographic Photo Contest 2013. Awesome.
Philosophy is really homesickness; the wish to be everywhere at home.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve had incredibly vivid and unusually linear, storylike, dreams. Last night was no exception. I’ll spare you the full account, and say only that it included teetering on the edge of a fire escape over a thousand foot cliff in Yosemite National Park, biking away from mountain lions in a San Francisco city park, watching a troupe of zombies gather peacefully outside my window, and, most powerfully, speaking with an old love for the first time in years. (Okay, maybe they’re not always so linear.)
It was all disturbingly real, and I woke up still feeling the frozen weakness of fear in my legs as if I were still on that fire escape, and the horrible ache of lost love in my chest as if I were still hugging my old love, hearing her say my name.
I wondered why it is that dreams can seem more “real” than this world that surrounds me now. This waking life. Perhaps it is because, when I am in any of those dream moments, I am aware of nothing but that moment. I’m never thinking about this waking life, or what anyone else is doing who is not right there in that dream moment with me. In other words, I’m fully present.
In my waking life, I’m much more likely to be thinking about other things or people or times or places. This can scatter my awareness to the point where this moment that I’m in seems less substantial. Less real. Which kinda sucks.
Then again, I suppose it’s hard to compare typing a blog post on your laptop with escaping from mountain lions, or holding tight to someone you love.
If you loved Calvin & Hobbes half as much as I, you might enjoy this rare interview with its creator, Bill Watterson, from 1989.
And if you’re an aspiring artist of any stripe, this excerpt from the opening of the interview might be helpful. Compared to other roads to success, Watterson’s was fairly short. Yet even he, and his beloved comic strip, had to pass through (at least a little) failure and rejection before finding success.
From the interview:
“Upon graduation in 1980, he became the political cartoonist for The Cincinnati Post, an experience he remembers as relentlessly depressing but mercifully short. Unable to fulfill his editor’s fuzzy notion of what an editorial cartoon should be, Watterson was fired before the end of his first year. For the next five years, Watterson submitted comic strip ideas to the syndicates. Six were developed; six were rejected. United Features Syndicate was the most encouraging, and Watterson’s seventh development contract, this one with UFS, resulted in Calvin and Hobbes. Ironically, UFS declined to distribute it, saying they didn’t think it would sell. Universal Press Syndicate snatched it up and launched it on November 1985.”
Thanks for not giving up, Mr. Watterson.