The Master Plan

Plans are but figments of your imagination. Yes, they appear perfect and wholesome in the minds eye, but like all other figments, pink elephants per exemple, they can never take shape in reality. (Ty, Sarah! *g*) No matter how perfectly you plan a day, how impeccable your To Do list might be, something inevitably goes wrong. The lines of causualty are far to dense and intricate for one to account for in a plan. No matter if the plan is for an hour, a day, or the rest of one's life, there are variables for every possible decision. From experience, I know this. Each morning, I write a list. Perhaps it has five items, maybe fifteen. Once it had thirty. By the end of the day, I have crossed out two. What happened? I worked as hard as I could, yet it wasn't enough. What changed? Several people I know have their lives sublimely planned out. After highschool thus will happen, then such and such. It seems flawless, ja?

How many plans come to the ultimate end? But then again, how shall we define this "ultimate end"? Take the example of the long list. Is the ultimate end having all 30 items gleefully checked off? Or is it something more? Do we cross the item off for the sake of doing so, or for the sake of doing the the thing, per se? Obviously the latter. (Perhaps I may be a single exception: I ruefully admit to occasionally adding items to my list for only the pleasure of checking them off. It gets horribly discouraging when you work so hard and seem to have accomplished nothing.) We have concluded that it is for the sake of the act that we make plans. And so, if the plan is thwarted, and the act is not successfully done, do we call it a FAIL? No. The list can be crumpled and burned, but there is a second act in place of the one which was lost. This is the act which conflicted with the planned one. It is possible, though not always easy, to transform all these anomalous mistakes into worthwhile things. Things, as such, which could be counted among the planned items. Is this clear?

In short, we can plan our lives away, and lament our distress when we don't clear the hedge on the first jump, or we can make the best of the situtation no matter how drastic it is. It can be regarded as the Omnipotent Master Plan - we write down half of the items which we wish to accomplish, and God provides the other half for us, as He sees fit.

“If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans.”

-Woody Allen

TIP: Climb the ladder to the sun! Keep writing lists, and making plans, but don't let them guide your life. They will never suffice.

Men and Mountains

My dearest Jane,
You once exclaimed to me: "Oh, what are men to rocks and mountains!" May I have the pleasure of informing you? Men are exceedingly akin to rocks and mountains, from my point of view. Perhaps it will become your point of view in a moment as well. Men are strong, steadfast, durable, and cunningly unobtrusive, if they wish to be. This is as rocks. As mountains, they are somewhat similar in a different nature. They, most, are tall. (Yet, even those that are not of exceeding height may be intelligent and good natured. This has nothing to do with mountains, and I include unheightly men in my analogy. But it is far from me to leave possible the assumption that I retain a position biased against those of average height. I speak from my own experience. Proceeding-) Tallness, however is not a vital aspect of man. Rather, this mountainous altitude is analogous to their levels of mens' complexity. Nay, I do not claim that the taller the subject the more confusing he is. Men are undoubtedly quite simple, but it is this simplicity which reflects from unassuming ignorant, young ladies as an intricate pattern of intended mystifying bewilderingness. Mountains are tall, beautiful and simple. Men are tall, handsome and simple. Let us leave it at that. I thank you for you time, my dear Jane.

With love,
C. Esperanza

P. S. I must not conclude without giving you this one note of advice, don't assume because men are simple in nature, they are simple in mind. You, of all people ought to know this.

Oh, brother! My conclusion (or is it the begining?) on the subject of brothers.

J: Her hair is curly...
C: I think she meant to do that.

J: Are you sure?

C: Mostly.

I was thinking about my brothers the other day and how lucky I am to have them. Every so often I might change my mind, but all in all I am glad to have them. Sure they can be annoying, crazy, loud, teasing, greedy when it comes to Reese's peanut butter cups, picky about silly things, etc., but that is just one side of them. See, I've found that brothers can also be a joy (you have to trust me on this, I've seen it.) They just need to be viewed the right way, which is usually a sense of humor. Brothers really are funny creatures when you don't take them too seriously, they tell stupid jokes, they make weird faces, they say interesting things, but if you think too much on these, it won't help you. When your brothers are trying to be funny, chances are it will not always seem funny to you. You have to just "go with the flow", play along with them. On the other hand (this is where it gets tricky), you have to take them seriously sometimes. You have to. They might let you know when they are very serious about a thing and really want you to listen, but sometimes when they are very quiet you can just tell. Although this could be mistaken for one of them plotting some prank to pull on you...*might be speaking from experience*. But I guess what's important here is to just make absolutely certain you say close to them. If you are there for them, they'll be there when you need them.

~S. (Who has three brothers to look after and be looked after by.)

Unseen Doorway

Beyond the Unseen doorway,
Over the black marble wall
Along the path, cracked and grey,
Into the clear crystal hall.

Treading the aisle of glass
Approaching a Brilliant Light
Blinded by the sought at last
He foolishly fled in fright.

[Reference to my Catholic interpretation of Plato's Cave)

Tip: It is worse to be blinded by darkness, than by light.

An Ode to Tim

The Gift.
[Ultra-Exaggeration based on a true story]

Alas, my Timothy, I am carried away,
5 states from thou, my sweet love will stay.
I shall never forget the day that we spent,
Dost thou remember my English accent?
Alas, for your dark haired and rumpled toupee...

And when away you gracefully glide
Only to stop when this gift you spied,
My heart! My heart! Oh, how it sings,
It carries me off upon golden wings.
For days ever after I sat down and sighed....

O, my Sweet Timothy, your dearest gift to me,
Was the ravenest of jet, and darkest of ebony,
Smoother and sweeter than sugar or satin,
and utterly impossible more to blacken.
O, how thoughtful and kind, my dear Timothy!


[Written only to give you a laugh, dear Gabrielle! ;)]

Tip: Buy Molasses!

With Liberty and Justice

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands: One Nation, Under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all."

Liberty? Justice?

Even in the pledge allegiance, we find reference to God and liberty. On the front of a quarter, "LIBERTY" is firmly printed in capitals, along with "In God we trust." H'mm... I think I missed something somewhere. How is the liberty of an unborn life, less than the liberty of a grown man? McInerny says that all human beings have identical human nature, though different substances. Now... Existentialism is the opposite. "Existence precedes essence," they say. Ah, so of course a child in a womb has no essence. "If a human being is not born, then he does not exist and if he never existed, he could never have any values. That is why existence precedes essence, hence existentialism," claim these fallicists. The dolts. Don't they realize that they were born too? That everyone in the world was?

Ja, I'm ranting again - sorry. It's just that I've never cared about an election so much before; maybe never so much was held at stake. After thinking it over, I realized why this election is so important. Whatever choice Americans make today, will affect so much more than is plainly visible. The next generation - yes, that's us - will have to live with the consequences made today. Whatever they are. Here's what the American Flag stands for (or used to):

Red - Valor and bravery

White - Purity and innocence

Blue - Vigilance, perseverance, and justice

Purity, and justice, eh? I think a couple politicians forgot about that. Americans hang flags a lot more than other countries. Stores, cars, houses... nearly everything is adorned with them. That's because we're so proud of our country! This pride, in thousands and thousands of cases, is on the edge of the well sharpened knife. Why would we be glad to hang a symbol of the right to innocents' destruction? I wouldn't.

As a matter of fact, I'd be ashamed to.

TIP: Vote for life, so we'll have a real reason to be proud of America.

On Echoes

Echos, she says. Echos. I've heard the best way to overcome Writers Block is to write about the most common, random thing you can think of- as much as possible. ...but echoes?! What do I know about echoes, except they echo?

From the most distant shadows of my mind (In a disorderly heap of thousands of proofs, infinitums, basidiospores, ablatives of separation, Demosthenes, and Macedonians...), I hear the whisper of an echo... Somewhere in this past week, I've heard the word "echo". All I can remember is that it struck me in a peculiar way.

--Later.--

I won't bother telling how I happened upon this- it would take up a whole post... but it is undoubtedly where my whispered echo came from. One of the most admirable poems I've ever read.

Solitude
Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.

Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.

Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.