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Wanderon
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Name: Wanderon
Interests: Sculpting, aquariums, chickens, rain, bending metal with my mind.
Expertise: I can detach myself from the world. If there is a better world to detach oneself from than the one functioning at the moment I have yet to hear of it.
Occupation: Hey, I ain't no dirty hippie!
Message: message me
Member Since:
11/14/2005
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| Here's something profound from Edwin Faust, a writer I really admire. " And I also now realize that one must be patient with those who lack faith, ever hoping for their reclamation and refraining from judgement. For many years I remained away from the Church and the sacraments. I gave ample reason for those who loved me to despair of me, and little promise that I would ever right myself and do anything in the least worthwile. But God waits for us, sometimes through the greater part of a lifetime, and we never know who He has marked out for His saving grace. Nor can we be certain of our own perseverance. It is part of the mystery of Providence that God sometimes allows us to fall and to wander far away, only to bring us back to Him, wiser through our fall than we were in our former virtue. We learn mercy by recieving mercy." | | |
| I suppose the fundamental distinction between Shakespeare and myself is one of treatment. We get our effects differently. Take the familiar farcical situation of the man who suddenly discovers that something unpleasant is standing behind him. Here is how Shakespeare handles it (The Winter's Tale, Act 3, Scene 3).
``... Farewell!
A lullaby too rough. I never saw
The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour!
Well may I get aboard! This is the chase:
I am gone for ever.
(Exit pursued by a bear.)''
``Touch of indigestion, Jeeves?''
``No, Sir.''
``Then why is your tummy rumbling?''
``Pardon me, Sir, the noise to which you allude does not emanate from my interior but from that of that animal that has just joined us.''
``Animal? What animal?''
``A bear, Sir. If you will turn your head, you will observe that a bear is standing in your immediate rear inspecting you in a somewhat menacing manner.''
I pivoted the loaf. The honest fellow was perfectly correct. It was a bear. And not a small bear, either. One of the large economy size. Its eye was bleak and it gnashed a tooth or two, and I could see at a g. that it was going to be difficult for me to find a formula.
``Advise me, Jeeves,'' I yipped. ``What do I do for the best?''
``I fancy it might be judicious if you were to make an exit, Sir.''
No sooner s. than d. I streaked for the horizon, closely followed across country by the dumb chum. And that, boys and girls, is how your grandfather clipped six seconds off Roger Bannister's mile.
Who can say which method is superior?
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| I have been commisioned to do a sculpture of St. Stephen. It feels a little intimidating, because I've never done a full human body before, and this first effort of mine is going to be displayed in a church! It isn't going to be a simple statue, either, because he has to be in a kneeling position. I have so little courage, it's pathetic. 
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| I officially have Aspergers! Yay, now nobody can accuse me of making it up. Validation! Legitimacy! Redemption! I can move forward with my job-getting plans. Phew. | | |
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