Sunday, December 29, 2013

By None Other than Yourself

Merry Christmas to all. I hope yours was swell and well spent. Continue to enjoy your time off if you have it.

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and to me youe are more beautiful than the most beautiful rose placed in a crystal clear glass set in the rays of a beautiful arizona sunset, rays reflecting, shattered out of the crystal clear glass onto the beautiful red rock beneath it, more beautiful than peace of mind

Rewrite 10/16/11

To me a/I
To me your beauty has no suited compariosn. A young rose set on a crystal pedestal protected by a clean glass dome, invaded only by the royal light shed by an Arizona sunset, is not close enough to honor your person. Your mind is more mysterious than the shadow cast by the stem and the petals. Your soul more glorious than the colorful light separated by the glass, spilled out around the shadow, reflecting learned innocence and intricacey. You are more amazing, more wonderful, more magnanimously beautiful than even peace of mind.

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Sure, you're more beautiful than peace of mind, but can you help me finish this freakin' book? I'm at about 48,000 words, which is cool and all, but I sort of feel like I've lost control.

A while back, when I first started long boarding, I decided that it would be a great idea to have my little brother, Nolan, sit on the front of the long board as we cruised down a nearby hill. I didn't know what I was doing back then, and I told him that if it started to wobble too much, you should bail. That was bad advice. He did, and that was the worst long board crash I was ever in (just a few scrapes though).

I often encountered some harsh wobbling back then, and would usually step off when it got to be too much for me. My adrenaline would be through the roof if I made it all the way down without jumping off, and I would feel like a fearless champion, a glorious winner of all competitions. That feeling, where I'm worried that I'll lose control of the board and end up hurt, is analogous to how I feel now with my story.

This thing is wobbling beneath me and I feel like I'm going to crash it into a wall, or a car, or simply take it straight off a cliff somewhere. Thing is, I'm going to stay on it, 'cause that's what you're supposed to do.


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Entrance to the garden of happieness is guarded by none other than yourself

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