18 September 2011

Notes - A question of fear / a self-testing / relevance / a perfectionist

          Mid-morning. Breakfast and the Sunday paper. I am almost afraid to ask what Amorella’s issues might be. I have enough trouble with my own which are evident enough in this blog and the books.

         Why are you frightened of my issues, boy. Why are you expecting the ten commandments?

         Man, do you cut to the chase or what. Right to the point. I wasn’t thinking Ten Commandments specifically, but you are close enough for personal discomfort.

         Why do you capitalize ten commandments?

         My Presbyterian upbringing, I would imagine. Mother. It seems proper as they are considered Holy in my culture.

         A man brought them down from the mountain, at least that is how it is according to religious tradition. Did G---D get down on his hands and knees and chisel them out on stone tablets?

         I don’t know, Amorella. This sort of questioning is not considered proper and might even be considered blasphemous. I don’t like to think too much about these things. It doesn’t seem polite. To each their own. I try to remain respectful of other’s beliefs.

         You are arrogant for the wrong reason. You are questioning cultures not G---D.

         I really don’t want to question something I am not educated about. I am no minister, priest or rabbi. I am not a holy man. I am not schooled in theology or even that much in philosophy. I have no real legitimate right to question these matters. I don’t even believe I am arrogant here no matter what you suggest. I don’t even care if you are a figment of my imagination or an Angel or even if you were G---D, I have a right to my own feelings on these matters and they are off bounds to me. Sometimes you make me uncomfortable, Amorella. I don’t know why you do this.

         You are not being truthful here. You are concerned as to why I question your questioning or lack of it.

         I know next to nothing. I have nothing to stand on. I stand nearly empty. I have nothing to say, a mere speck in the wind has nothing to say. – rho

         Boy, you have a right to question everything. Everyone has such a right; it is a subdivision of Free Will. You are not afraid to defy G---D. Why would you be afraid of the cultures of your own species?

         It doesn’t seem polite. And, who am I to question any culture?

         And, it is polite to defy G---D directly?

         I have a right to remain who and what I am, a member of the species homo sapiens. I am built to defy G---D under these circumstances.

         Who told you this?

         No one. It is something I understand to be true.

         How?

         A once imagined experience.

         Intuitive imagination will do. Post. – Amorella.

         Why this on a tranquil Sunday morning?

         You needed the lesson on ‘fearing’ my ‘issues’. You do not fear death. You have nothing to fear, boy. – Amorella. 





           Early afternoon. Carol has made chili for lunch or supper and has been working on the bills and statements that came in yesterday’s mail (which was forgotten to be picked up until this late morning). Youngsters at the nearby St. Susanna School are into sport across Muddy Creek as you can hear the announcer call on the speakers as you were out doing some lawn and driveway trimming until one battery died and the other is not yet charged. Spent time going over the statements from the New England trip – motel, food and fuel statements mostly.

         It is hard to believe we just returned last Wednesday, it seems like we have been here for at least a week. Always catch-up after a trip but I think Carol has it all pretty well organized now; even to the point that the new TV shows are noted to watch this week. Amazing most of our over thirty year teaching careers of not watching much television now it is our entertainment central, mostly mysteries and crime shows of one kind or another with a few comedies scattered lightly salting the peppered cable and broadcasting. A new Inspector Lewis is on Masterpiece Theatre tonight, a most welcome piece of light challenge and fun.

         One of my issues is hypocrisy, my man, and how human beings deal with it. – Amorella.

         This is not an honest world we are thrown into, Amorella.

         Name anyone more honest than the physical world/universe you exist in?

         Physics has no moral values. Our Free Will allows for moral values to be consciously recognized as existing within our genetic humanity as a species. This is my raw opinion. Being respectful and polite is a moral value. Nature is not always polite, but evolution of any species shows a kind of respectfulness for life and for human acceptance in allowing a measure of dignity for all life within its own species.

         Any more to add?

         I’ve probably gone too far. Too much lecturer in me. I see this is a self-test. One never knows who sheorhe is at any given moment.

         Post. – Amorella.  


        Mid-afternoon. I have completely forgotten what scene I am on in chapter seven. Certainly we have to get through this chapter before making a transition for a chapter or so on Merlyn and Arthur.

         This is not how it works, orndorff.

         I see enough in Dore’s illustration. Merlyn explains while Arthur attempts to go about his business half listening to Merlyn’s eloquent monologues.

         Why would that be?

         Merlyn understands things, more so than any other man living or dead (in the story); Arthur is self-directed and self-centered and while he realized Merlyn is wiser he chooses not to really listen unless his life is on the line. Which of course it isn’t. . . . unless it is deemed important and relevant to Arthur directly, then he’ll listen more closely to glean what he can for the moment at hand.

         No moments, but closer than what I would have expected of you, orndorff.

         I have a good self-understanding of me playing as Arthur’s role. I have a strong self-centeredness and I am not afraid to use it.

         Such gallows’ humor tightening on a self-truth. Post, orndorff. – Amorella.  


         Late dusk. Chores done and trash out for Monday morning pick-up. After quickly noting my desktop I find I have already begun chapter eight and need to work on scene two. I don’t remember finishing chapter seven. I feel bad about the grammar in the recent Facebook thoughts. I should have reworded it. How is that for a retired teacher of English and writer to have crappy sentence structure. I earned a D at best because I should have caught the errors before friends said hello. I need to present myself better – to loosey-goosy in my typing. I misspelled Presbyterian by forgetting the ‘s’ and wrote upbring rather than upbringing. Two hours went by before I noticed and made corrections.

         This is not an excuse but writing your thoughts as you think them is troubled with grammatical errors at times, as it is similar to making a simultaneous translation. This is worth it to you enough to accept such errors and pass them on from time to time. Some teachers of English could not bring themselves to do this and share such mistakes. Do not deride yourself more than needed, to do so is a form of arrogance that moves on into pride. Can you imagine a perfectionist shutter when confronted with an Angel of G---D? There’s a story for someone to write, but not you, boy. You have enough already on your hands. All for tonight. Post. – Amorella.

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