Liz's Fables
A sage woman told me once, "There is no one you can't learn SOMETHING from if you'll only listen, even if it's discovering how not to be a complete moron." Nah, but seriously, even the greatest morons most likely know at least one thing that you don't know.
I try to carry that over even in my day to day Observations. I might even start a section called, "Liz's Fables" or some other cunning way to show that I am indeed a person with a very high, profound character. (ha ha. no, but seriously) As illustrated in this true yet witty, and moral-ridden story:
Last night at around 2am (Character #1: I am a dedicated and hard worker) I was out by the puppet theatre painting my finishing touches -- intricate caligraphic wording on the banner; my piece de la resistance (Character #2: I have panache and style). I'll admit, I was pretty darn tired. I was frustrated with all the obstacles that had been popping up that I'd had to brainstorm and find solutions for. (Character #3: I am resourceful) I was pleased to be alone. (Character #4: I value solitude as a time to become ever more enlightened)
As I hunched over my work on hands and knees, I spotted a bug scurrying across the marble floor. Not just any bug. An ugly bug. (Character #5: I am discerning) In the course of the day I had seen plenty of insects ranging from your everyday savage mosquito to the exotic Yellow-Bellied Sapsucking Spider. (Character #6: I am in touch with nature) But this bug would never be considered a looker, if you catch my drift. So I did what all good-natured humans would do.
I squashed it -- squashed it good and hard.
It was in that conclusive moment that I witnessed The Lesson. As my Hand of Doom lifted from the remains of the Ugly Bug I saw a feeble green light flash out of his buttock region.
Too late I realized, I had squashed a firefly.
Now, I love fireflies. I appreciate the magic they lend to the dusky evenings. But here I was, dooming him to Everlasting Sleep because of my first impressions. I'm sure that firefly's green bottom was a star in someone elses' sky.
I was ashamed.
I learned.
Moral: Before you completely annihilate the next less-than-butterfly material that crosses your path, try to figure out if he/she might not just be a green-light-emiting-magically-from-butt firefly. No, no. Seriously.
And if you ever see me looking at you in a funny way, head cocked to the side, listening to what you're frothing about. It's probably because I'm trying to glean some knowledge out of your rythmic mouth motions.
Please just don't spit on me.
I try to carry that over even in my day to day Observations. I might even start a section called, "Liz's Fables" or some other cunning way to show that I am indeed a person with a very high, profound character. (ha ha. no, but seriously) As illustrated in this true yet witty, and moral-ridden story:
Last night at around 2am (Character #1: I am a dedicated and hard worker) I was out by the puppet theatre painting my finishing touches -- intricate caligraphic wording on the banner; my piece de la resistance (Character #2: I have panache and style). I'll admit, I was pretty darn tired. I was frustrated with all the obstacles that had been popping up that I'd had to brainstorm and find solutions for. (Character #3: I am resourceful) I was pleased to be alone. (Character #4: I value solitude as a time to become ever more enlightened)
As I hunched over my work on hands and knees, I spotted a bug scurrying across the marble floor. Not just any bug. An ugly bug. (Character #5: I am discerning) In the course of the day I had seen plenty of insects ranging from your everyday savage mosquito to the exotic Yellow-Bellied Sapsucking Spider. (Character #6: I am in touch with nature) But this bug would never be considered a looker, if you catch my drift. So I did what all good-natured humans would do.
I squashed it -- squashed it good and hard.
It was in that conclusive moment that I witnessed The Lesson. As my Hand of Doom lifted from the remains of the Ugly Bug I saw a feeble green light flash out of his buttock region.
Too late I realized, I had squashed a firefly.
Now, I love fireflies. I appreciate the magic they lend to the dusky evenings. But here I was, dooming him to Everlasting Sleep because of my first impressions. I'm sure that firefly's green bottom was a star in someone elses' sky.
I was ashamed.
I learned.
Moral: Before you completely annihilate the next less-than-butterfly material that crosses your path, try to figure out if he/she might not just be a green-light-emiting-magically-from-butt firefly. No, no. Seriously.
And if you ever see me looking at you in a funny way, head cocked to the side, listening to what you're frothing about. It's probably because I'm trying to glean some knowledge out of your rythmic mouth motions.
Please just don't spit on me.
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-SRud-