Putting aside the fact that I’ve never written a word about wind chimes until today, I think that it is fair to say that this spammer took a very dim view of one of my blog posts. I’ve never received such a sad piece of spam before. Most of my spam is of the “great job” variety, so the unhappiness described in this piece of spam is almost too much for me.
I feel the angst.
But here’s what confuses me: why is this piece of spam telling me about some clunky, un-melodic wind chimes? I had nothing to do with the wind chimes. It’s almost as if this piece of spam was written without anyone actually reading what I wrote… as if there is no correlation between my content and the spam comment… as if this spammer doesn’t care about me at all.
In it, Chris decides to “create a pure moment” by: 1) building a trebuchet, & 2) choosing the perfect cow to fling from it.
But his plan stalls when he realizes that: 1) there is “a certain wrongness” to the cow he has picked out, & 2) he cannot, in good conscience, fling a cow because it has been done before. Which would make his cow flinging merely repetitive. And not the perfect artistic experience that he longs for.
• • •
At first Chris is bummed that he won’t be able to create his pure moment but comes to realize that: “I had to let go of that cow so I could see all the other possibilities.”
I still reflect on the idea of a certain wrongness to things. And on how you often have to let go of any preconceived ideas in order for a new, better idea to manifest.
All this comes to mind as I write this last NaBloPoMo post. I had a different idea of how this challenge was going to play out, so when I sensed a certain “wrongness” to it I almost gave up. However, I hung around posting something every day– letting go of “that cow so I could see all the other possibilities.”
And as a result, I managed to complete NaBloPoMo. And make a decision or two about how I’ll pursue my dreams in the future.
So with that last NaBloPoMo thought, I’ll leave you, my gentle readers, to watch what might be the best– the most absurd– the most unexpected three minutes in all of Northern Exposure. And that’s saying something.
Enjoy!
• • •
“The thing I learned folks, this is absolutely key:
It’s not the thing you fling. It’s the fling itself.
I was getting out of my car in the parking lot in front of a strip center yesterday, when I noticed an older woman getting out of her car. The woman was probably 75-80 years old. She was slender, not emaciated, and was moving with a slow ease.
I was immediately taken with her. She was, I do hope, what I look like when I am her age. My future doppelgänger of sorts.
Here’s what I saw:
• white wavy hair, sans frizz, cut short & styled in a relaxed flattering way – not glued into place
• rectangular medium-brownish-gray framed glasses – that fit her face size
• a bright red parka that would make a stop sign blush at its own dull inadequacy
• a jazzy-patterned multi-colored silk scarf around her neck – peeking out from within her parka
• medium tan corduroy boot-cut pants – hemmed just right
• dark tan flat leather shoes – rather nondescript, but in the perfect shade to blend with the pants
To say that I was smitten is an understatement. Part of this was because it was refreshing for me to see a little old lady who embraced color and wore styles from this decade. She wasn’t a Q-tip, which is the way so many of the older woman around here dress. Not flattering.
But what really intrigued me about this woman was that she was driving a VW Beetle Convertible— bright red on the bottom, black on the top. A bold car, no?
And one that, combined with her ensemble, made me love her upon first sight as I became hopeful for my future as an old lady. I’m gonna look damned good, aren’t I?
THE SPECTACLED BEAN 