Keeping Busy
I’ve never understood the need of people to keep an online diary of their thoughts and actions.
A private diary I can comprehend. It becomes a sort of time capsule of your life to be left behind for the prosperity of the future. Sharing those intimate daily workings with the world at large would just scare me. That, and if the government found out what I was doing on a daily basis I would institutionalized immediately.
However, I have heard that sharing the minutia of the inner workings of your thought processes with an outside, unbiased and rational individual can lead to a better understanding of self and clearer, less-inhibited emotional state. As I lack a rational individual and am too cheap and lazy to go find myself a therapist who will just sit and stare at me going “uh huh” for three hours while I lay on the fluffed up couch and spill about the kid who chased me with an earthworm in the third grade, I am left with the cold, unfeeling emptiness that is cyberspace and those poor, hapless souls who happen to stumble upon this blog after a google search for blueberry muffin recipies. In such a situation I can see why an online diary of sorts would be not only useful but beneficial, if not utterly boring for those looking for an entertaining read.
In an effort to compromise, allow me to tell you a hypothetical story about an imaginary family, one that has absolutely no relevance or relation to my family or anyone I happen to know, I assure you.
So when I- I mean, when Emily was a little girl she used to share a room with her little sister Sarah, and their older sister Jane slept in her room down the hall. It was approximately two in the morning when a high pitched and rather whiny scream emitted from down the hall and woke the two girls from their peaceful slumber. Leaping ever so gracefully out of bed, then picking herself off the floor after the graceful leap failed to transcend any kind of distance, I, er, Emily fled down the hall to her sister’s aid, meeting up with her parents in the hallway. Jane had left her room in a hurry, screaming bloody murder and waving her arms like one of those cartoon characters who’s running away from a swarm of killer bees. She steamrolled over her younger sisters and the family dog, leaving them in a huddled heap on the carpeting, all the while screaming about a monster that had tried to eat her hair.
The voice of reason, or at least the voice of that particular hallway, the girls’ mother bravely stepped forward and demanded that the dad go check out the room. Armed with a shoe in one hand and a large umbrella in the other, he advanced into the room with the great crowd of estrogen huddled behind him, brandishing his weapons in what he hoped appeared to be an imposing and intimidating way. Three steps into the room, they glimpsed movement at the foot of the bed and the estrogen hoarde and one yelping canine went scurrying away as if a nuclear bomb had been dropped in the child’s bedroom and radiation poisoning was imminent.
Standing in what he assumed was a confident manner, the father poked daringly at the offending intruder with the blunt end of the umbrella. What he discovered was not the boogyman, or some crazed insect swarm bent on eating a small girl’s hair while she sleeps, but a small and terrified bat fluttering at the base of the window screen trying to find a way out. The children in the hallway never forgot the great booming laughter that emanated from the room (which to them signaled that the monster had caught daddy and he was now possessed) or the way that their father, out of breath and crouched over from laughing, beckoned them in to see the horrifying, hair-eating boogyman. Ever so much more confident, the dad carefully caught the frightened creature with the shoe and a nearby box, releasing it to the wild (at which time Emily swore she heard tiny squeaks yelling “FREE, I’M FREE”). The dog was recovered from under the couch, the children were safely placed back in their beds and one little bat flew happily off into the night to tell stories of the great umbrella-wielding maniac who threw it out a window.
I hope you enjoyed the tale which had absolutely no relevance at all to me.
The End.