Recently a friend pointed out that my one huge permeates everything weakness is feeling stupid and that if anyone wants to pound me into a useless mush, all they have to do is just tell me I am stupid.
I wish I could do justice to this prompt. I am seeking being a good person. I am seeking giving back to the community, I am seeking being kind as often as possible.
In looking for an image for this post, I google images of “seeking quotes”.
It was not much fun for me, the results. Many were religious or so insanely self-serving that my eyebrows shot up with a grand curiosity as to how that would be a good thing or even a possibility… others seem incomplete.
And the truth in that is that I am seeking a way out of this insane tendency to be so damn judgey about things like quotes about seeking.
Realizing this makes me feel stupid.
This is in a global sense, not just the book smarts.
I am most likely pretending to be seeking knowledge, and really doing more of just humoring the ideas that I have.
I have created a never-ending cycle for myself, haven’t I?
He seems like an interesting bloke, though the kind I would probably talk to until I got too weirded out by his crazy notions and promptly had to leave… because the way he is described in the wikipedia article in terms of his magico-religious philosophy reminds me of my weird as fuck college roommate who thought her own “magico-religious philosophy” was soooooooo fucking important that in regaling me with her notions and ideas that even my attempts to get a brief respite by going to the bathroom were to no avail as she would follow me in and sit on side of the bathtub as I did my business. That roommate was wackadoodle! I ran in to a mutual friend and was told that in the mind of my crazy ex-roommate, I had done something so heinous that it merited some form of intervention… but that she was also forbidden from telling me about it.
It was the first day of my spring break. I stayed in bed most of the day and read and napped. and took things like I was on vacation but there was a nasty ass storm outside and the authorities have issued a curfew.
It was all easy, really. If forced to pick the easiest it would have been going to the Easter party where I knew no one, not even the host. Living in the age of social media, my only tie was that the host and I both are descendants of people who arrived in AZ before statehood.
Actually, I had met one person before. Our local “Hip Historian”… We both ended up winning a costume contest (I got 3rd).
My house was built before Arizona was a state. As such, it has seen so many things and as I go to bed each night I try not to worry about the leaky pipe or the wobbly porch with a hole in it and instead try to concentrate more on what stories it has to tell.
This past weekend the grandson of the second owner of our home stopped by for a visit.
He grew up in the house and shared some marvelous stories with me.
I learned that there is a cover-up and I was sworn to secrecy.
I learned that Wilford Hayden would ride his old mule from the ranch about five miles north after dinner and sit on the porch chattin’ until well past midnight.
I learned that the brand the Stevenson family use (and did so when they lived in my home) was this:
I learned that I need to crash the next meeting of the Scottsdale Old-Timers club!