…hearing the rain after a long drought.
…smelling the air outside just after rain has begun.
…hearing your number called in a prize drawing.
…completing a blogging challenge.
…the title screen of a long-awaited and newly acquired game.
…downing an insanely hard boss in that new game.
…seeing “A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away…” on the big screen again, and again.
…seeing it with a loved one.
…a silly message from a pal.
…a silly message from the significant other.
…a hug. A real hug.
…waking in a warm place in the morning.
…seeing the beginnings of a big smile on your loved one’s face.
…knowing they’re laughing with you.
…when you first catch sight of your significant other after an absence of any length.
…hard to completely describe.
…a gift.
Hmm. What’s this curious object I hold in my hand? It’s roughly double the length of one of my fingers, and a bit thinner as well, tapering to almost a point at one end, and with a clip-type thingie on the other. It almost looks like two cylinders-I think that’s the word for them-with one sitting inside the other.
As I push the clip between my thumb and index fingers, I notice the “top” (just a guess since it’s got the clip on it) section rotates, and, what’s this? There’s something slowly emerging from the more “pointy” end. A tiny, more pointing thing! It’s rounded on the end and not at all sharp-looking. There seems to be something on it. I touch it with a fingertip. It leaves a mark! Interesting. What if I move the “tip” across a napkin I have handy? The tip leaves a rough line.
This can be fun. Maybe I can make a set of lines and shapes, some sort of art of some kind. I try this. It’s not going so well, as I’m not much of an artist. Perhaps there’s some other use for this that I’m better at. Well, I know some letters, maybe it’s good for that.
Old King Cole was a merry old soul, and a merry old soul was he;
He called for his pipe in the middle of the night
And he called for his fiddlers three.
Every fiddler had a fine fiddle, and a very fine fiddle had he;
Oh there’s none so rare as can compare
With King Cole and his fiddlers three.
This is an interesting one because it’s not entirely clear exactly which king, with the name Cole, this is referring to. I see 3 contenders listed here:
The origins of the Nursery rhyme lyrics of Old King Cole are based in history dating back to 3rd century. There is considerable confusion regarding the origins of Old King Cole as there are three possible contenders who were Celtic Kings of Britain, all who share the name Coel (which is the Celtic word for the English word Cole). Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain) by Geoffrey of Monmouth (1110-1155) refers to a King Cole as a king of the Britons.
My interpretation is that, whichever king this was, he was a king who liked to party, and late into the nights pretty often. Whoever created this rhyme was likely a witness to at least some of the festivities, likely a servant of some kind. That’s just my best guess, as I have no particular expertise in this field of history.
I like how the article says that it’s unclear if Freeman was paid. Yeah, I think he got paid, and probably handsomely. That’s definitely a good choice of voice for a personal assistant. I was using the Waze voice for quite a while. I would also consider Susan Bennett (the voice of Siri) as well. Knowing that Susan was only paid for her initial recording sessions (before Apple acquired that company), and no royalties, I doubt it’ll be anything beyond his recording fee.
It’s a simple intention that I post here, but a habit I hope to keep up. I intend to post something, anything, every single Monday in 2017. I further intend it specifically to be here, on my personal space online. For now, I’ll have it be for #MicroblogMondays since I’ve got a reminder set to remind me. Soon enough, I want it to just be a habit.
As I got off the telephone with her, I imagined showing her this dusk I’d seen a few times while strolling along the shore next to the old fence. She accepted the invitation so easily, and that made me feel less nervous, for the time being. If I am at a loss for words during our stroll, I’ll try and remember and recite this poem, and hope it doesn’t spook her:
In,
search of skin,
color no matter,
brighter or darker,
tell no one,
I will take someone,
Ssssshhhhh!
– ghost, me!
She’s gorgeous, I think to myself, wondering what I should do besides intently stare into her brown eyes. She’s saying something about a movie we’ve both seen, although not so recently for myself. I am confused at times. Should I sound? Should I echo? There’s a jumble of thoughts in my head.
“I like broken hero types, like Elliot in Mr. Robot,” I say, trying to relate the movie to a show I’d recently gotten into. He’s completely unlike the typical hero type she’s excited about in the movie, but she isn’t taking my troll lightly.
“What’s he got going for him, huh? Broken in what way?” She hasn’t seen much of the show, so I need to explain a bit more. “Well?”
I try to think quickly, temporarily distracted by a flash of her eyes in their sudden intensity. Ugh! Thoughts – they do what we don’t ask for! I laugh a bit, out of nervousness, struggling to answer.
“You need not answer all the questions! You can just laugh and laugh again,” she smiles mischievously.
“You’ve got pretty brown eyes, you know,” I stall. It’s true, but I’m not sure yet how to explain what I mean still. I knew it! That I don’t know! I still have to try, though.
“You’re just stalling now,” she teases.
“Well, this is tough, since I haven’t seen much of the show yet. I’m still trying to get a feel for the main characters.” This was true, only having seen the first 2 episodes.
“It’s true!” I plead. “I was trying to think of something about the show when you flashed your eyes. At times, we pretend to think on one and actually think everything else!”
“Alright, we’ll come back to this later. I want to see if you still feel that way after a few more episodes,” she grins. “Thanks for the compliment. You better have meant it.” She gives my hand a squeeze.
past hosted party,
gave future as the present,
present is partying.
My take on this poem is a pretty cool interpretation of the meaning of time. A person exists because of events that happened in the past. The present is always present and a gift of the new past. Then, the dreams of the future exist as an ideal (a party!)
I feel like that’s on optimistic take on time’s meaning. Seems good.
Sometimes I wonder about what’s next in life for me. Winter is pretty much here. You’ve got to be kidding me! A steady blade balances the soul. That’s what I’m going to do. I can’t stop the feeling. Let’s see what I think of next. That was lucky. I’m almost there. The toughest sentence is the first.
Tis the season for cozying up to someone special and listening to the almost musical crackle of burning logs. It’s a pretty good way to catch up with family as well. Sometimes, my family have the fire going in the aftermath of the Christmas present-opening, while the younger ones romp and play, and we do occasionally sit down to a holiday movie together (a bit rare until the younger nephew grows a bit more and settles down.) It’s time to warm up, and not just temperature-wise.