Monday, October 20, 2008

Mystery Monday

Proud Parenting fact: Duke #1 taught himself to read when he was about 3 years old. His vocabulary was stunning.


When it came to art projects, my darling little Duke #1 was, um, a ponderist.

A minimalist.

Oh, alright already. He was a bona fide perfectionist.

I do not know where this comes from, said the Baroness, averting her eyes from the incredulous stares and gaping pie-holes of those who know her well...

Needless to say, every time I went to pick him up from preschool, regardless of what fantastic creation his teachers had inspired, I knew right away - as I assessed the drying paintings in the hallway - which one was his.

That would be the piece of construction paper/kraft paper/fingerpainting paper that was completely blank, save for his name in the lower right hand corner.

That his teacher had written.

He was fine with this, and did not seem to be bothered by the reality that while his classmates were getting their Dali-esque grooves on, he stood solemnly in front of his easel. And produced nothing. Not a brushstroke. God only knows what was cooking in that cranium of his. I began mentally reviewing his infancy, to think as to whether or not he had incurred any blows to the creative area of his brain.

All this seemed to change as he entered Kindergarten. He had an amazing teacher who knew how to crack the code, and get him to take the baby steps of putting pen to paper.

Soon, he was unstoppable. He would rush downstairs in the mornings before school, still in his pajamas, and scream like a tortured artist: "I need paper!! I need a pencil!! NOW!!!!".

I was more than happy to oblige. I heaved a huge sigh of relief that the synaptic connection between his amazing brain and the page had finally begun.

I recall these long-ago moments when I find that there are times when my mind is racing at such an alarming rate, I have to quell the urge to scream: "I need paper!! I need a pen!! NOW!!!". (I also add "AND COFFEE!!! LOTS AND LOTS OF COFFEE!!!!")

Which is why I always keep a notebook and pen with me. This mindful act stops me from writing on napkins and newspaper borders and old grocery lists in lip liner (which I have resorted to, on occasion)(sad, really).

The "Mystery" part of this post comes from a page in one of my books. I've read it and re-read it about a hundred times, and for the life of me, I cannot even begin to unravel what I was driving at when I scribbled this crap down. I would like to point out here that I was neither:
a) sleepwriting.
b) drunk,
c) under the influence of cough medicine, mushrooms or legally obtained glaucoma medication (I don't even have glaucoma), nor
d) huffing keyboard cleaning spray.

So, I will leave this with you, and let you take off your cool sunglasses, smooth your tie out, and go all Caruso on my ass. Tell me, please, what the hell I was thinking? It's mess.

Working Title: Look in Your Own Backyard

The elusive hunt for fulfilment/happiness/health/prosperity begins 2 feet ahead of you. No, not the big screen tv. Nor the liquor cabinet or bread box. It's true - really - you just have to see it. Sometimes you have to work insanely hard to move 2 feet forward. It may require taking 2 steps backwards, in order to get a view of the larger picture, to behold the extraordinary in a different light. To repair the damage.

We're a lazy lot by nature, so is it a surprise that this minimal effort seems so unappealing?

Something obviously got my knickers in such a knot that I had to jot these passages down in a hurry, and then have such a brain fart (more like olestra-induced brain shart) that I can't even remember where I was going with this.

Thoughts? Ideas?



{i}Post said...

Um, no clue...perhaps there was a Chippendale dancer two feet ahead at the time? *snicker*

I ALWAYS have a notepad and a pen with me too. It is a sickness.

Baroness von B said...

Countess iPost: With your notepad, pen, and camera equipment, you must have one big-ass purse! Be careful.

The only Chippendale dancer that has ever even remotely amused me was Chris Farley. They should all be so lucky as to have his moves... ;)

Formerly Fun said...

Oh my, your scribblings are far more coherent than mine. Mine are usually something like, "toaster, husband analogy stupid, why the long face, oh you silly girl, humpf." Written in what seemed like a moment of red wine induced clarity indecipherable the next morn.

I actually thought what you wrote was quite deep. Typically, what will make you happy is two feet in front of you, you just have to get out of your own way.

Anonymous said...

Your notes are far more sensible than mine. I have found that enough Canadian Cider puts mine in the realm of blather.

I should carry the note pad with me, but I find I do my clearest thinking in my shower...

Chris Farley was the bomb!

Baroness von B said...

Countess StillFunI'mSure: "you have to get out of your own way" - I LOVE this!

Thank you.

Countess AG: While I, too, have many epiphanies in the shower, I also find it difficult writing on wet paper.

Maybe I need some of those bathtub crayons...

Bubs said...

I loved that, actually. "Look in your own backyard" is good advice on a whole range of topics and problems.

Baroness von B said...

Count Tiki: Normally, I would agree. But when I look in my own backyard, all I see is leaves. Gah.

Cormac Brown said...

That hapiness lies in our own hands? No, wait, that was Madonna. Um, be sure to get change at the bank, before you go to Chippendale's? Put it all on the BC Lions to win the Grey Cup, even though they're not in first place? No, that's not it either.

Oh, I know, don't write The Baroness when you are jet-lagged? Yeah, that's it.

Baroness von B said...

Count Cormac: For god's sake, man, go get some sleep.

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