That little bulb on the top of my head is turned on. I get it, but I just can’t grasp it. How often do we dish out advice to others, yet draw a blank when it comes to following it ourselves? We’re all hypocrites when it comes down to it. It’s as if we’re salesmen out to sell a product that we don’t truly believe in ourselves.
Well, here’s something I do believe in: love. It’s out there. I found it once. Then I lost it. But I realized that I was looking for it in all the wrong places. It’s sort of like searching for a 4 year missing child at his contemporary age of 10. He obviously won’t sound the same, look the same, or even act the same. So, why am I looking for the same love that I had 5 years ago… now?
But if it’s possible to make two different breakfasts, omelet and scrambled eggs, using the same key ingredient, then perhaps it shouldn’t be so difficult cooking up a new recipe this time around. I know that makes no sense at all to you, but it makes sense up here.. and that's all that matters.
abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz. At your local library they have these arranged in ways that can make you cry, giggle, love, hate, wonder, ponder, and understand. It's astonishing to see what these twenty-six little marks can do. In Shakespeare's hands they became Hamlet. Mark Twain wound them into Huckleberry Finn. James Joyce twisted them into Ulysses. Gibbon pounded them into The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. John Milton shaped them into Paradise Lost.
1 comment:
this post makes alot of sense!!! good job
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