Posts Tagged ‘hermit’

Just Promise Me You Will Never Try To Grow Up

May 15, 2008

Nostalgia is steadily taking over…

The color of the day is wisteria, the number is thirty-one, the holidays are Police Officer’s Memorial Day and National Chocolate Chip Day, and Pomona Sprout’s birthday, the words of the day are ersatz (an artificial or inferior substitute or imitation) and finagle (achieve something by means of trickery or devious methods), and today I walked/jogged/ran the last required mile of my life.

It was in Gym. At my high school, you are required to take one Gym class before being allowed to graduate. We had to do the mile thrice, and today was the last time. Ever. This is thrilling.

Next Wednesday is going to be spectacular- not only is it the weekly Wednesday club, but I volunteered to help out with the Preschool graduation practice and therefore get to miss the whole school day watching and playing with little kids. How awesome is that?

Speaking of the preschool, we are putting on a puppet show in class tomorrow. I am going to be playing a chicken and finished making the puppet a little while ago.

Also a little while ago (more like two or three minutes ago) I started and finished the short story I had to write for English. It is due Thursday, but I like to be ahead. It is only the rough draft, anyway. It is titled “Nobody in Particular” and I am going to paste it below. You know, because I have nothing much else to say. Laura, if you read this, do you think you could edit when/if you have the time? I am pretty sure there are some mistakes, but, as you know, staring at your own work for awhile kind of makes it tough to find mistakes.

[ “What am I?” I ask aloud, to nobody in particular.

“What are you not?” nobody in particular responds.

He has always been a wise fellow, this nobody creature. I am not entirely sure whether he exists, then again, as I have been known to imagine things. That is what they said when they kicked me out, you know. “REASON FOR EXPULSION” the slip was titled, the big, bold letters giving way to the infamous fine print. “Prone to excessive bouts of overactive imagination often leading to impulsive actions,” the report continued in the same minuscule size, ending with the signature of whomever was unduly placed in charge. They even had the nerve to slap a period on the end of it, as if turning the claim into a sentence fragment would change its significance, somehow. Quite the opposite, though- it only served to further infuriate me.

Now, that is all behind me- I still say as I did when I left in the first place: good riddance.

To be honest, I am dead grateful that I was ousted. After all, if I had not been, I would never have met nobody in particular- and that, my friend, would be unfortunate indeed. Had I not met nobody in particular, I never would have been granted the many drops of wisdom he has bestowed upon me since our meeting. Though, I guess calling it a ‘meeting’ would not be fully appropriate. We did not meet, per say. To this day, we have not formally done so. Rather, we have a mutual agreement: I ask a question, any time of day, and he answers. The scale is tipped more generously towards me, and I should think he would care, but he has yet to complain about my having the better half of the bargain. Now that I think about it, he has yet to complain about anything.

Occasionally I attempt to persuade the man to show himself, but it never turns out to my benefit. Surely he (and I assume that the creature is a ‘he’ based on the tone of his voice) wishes to come out of wherever he is hiding, at least sometimes. If he does, however, he does not show it. Always speaking in the monotonous, deadpan voice of a robot, one would think he would wish for a little excitement in his life. Evidently not yet, but I am sure he will crack someday. I have a strong feeling about it, and secure ones such as this are nearly always correct.

I shudder to think of what would happen if he were discovered. As long as the human race exists, the intense longing for knowledge and wisdom is inevitable, and nobody in particular has an abundance of it.

More so, in fact, than anybody I have met before. This never ceases to amaze me- if somebody this intelligent were to suddenly disappear from society, someone would certainly realize it.

He is an enemy spy, I once thought, yet there is no trace of an accent about him. I then considered that he is merely a hermit, choosing to be cut off from the rest of the world for some mysterious reason. That musing, however, was quickly shot down- to the best of my knowledge, nobody in particular has not left wherever he lurks. And, even if he were a hermit, he would still need to eat in order to survive. His voice comes from somewhere a bit off, but not enough that he could possibly be near a door or garden where he would be able to gather nutrients- or water, for that matter. If he is not human, though, then what is he? Without food or water, he could not even be living. A zombie, maybe? I doubt it- he does not seem like the type. What, then?

I have tried not to dwell on it too much, but I must admit that dwelling on things takes up much of my time. There is not much else to do, in this monster of a house with echoing rooms and the eternal scent of mothballs.

So, yes, it is free of most insects. It is also free of humans, other than myself of course. I have no family, never have and doubtlessly never will, and no friends to speak of either. In the end, it is just me here. And, obviously, nobody in particular as well.

I do not care, though. Who cares if I have nobody to talk to, nothing to do? What does it matter to be lonely when you have the answers to every question in the world? ]

So yup, there it is. I hope somebody liked/likes it.

Gosh, today feels like a Friday.

Oh yeah, my brother is home from college.

Pixie dust to all.

Try and fly.

Not to Speak

March 12, 2008

The following is a short story I wrote this afternoon.  I had a sudden spark of inspiration.  This will most likely be edited in the future, as I am not thrilled with how it came out.

Oh, how I loathe talking. I really cannot fathom how people could possibly speak to others so casually, as if conversing were actually a somewhat enjoyable task. What could possibly be even moderately enjoyable about chancing a rupture of your vocal cords? Talking is extremely dangerous, yet so many people do it every single day of their lives. Heck, a large amount of people speak as a career, even- they get paid to put themselves in perilous danger!

Even putting aside the dangers associated with talking, there is still the risk factor. Talking often ends messily, as conversations often lead to arguments and, as everybody knows, arguments sometimes lead to injuries or even death. Why would anybody risk dying merely for the sake of proving a point? Words can just as easily be put down onto paper, typed up on a computer, or mouthed. I have personally mastered the art of mouth-reading and honestly, I find communicating this way much more gratifying than speaking. When face-to-face with somebody or on the phone, holding up your end of the conversation is often tough. Conversations occasionally lead to awkward silences which, often lead to embarrassment or, like arguments, end in injuries or death. These awkward silences could be easily prevented by speaking using the aforesaid methods of typing or writing. If one of these such silences should occur in these situations, one could simple make up an excuse- a nice, “Sorry, my computer’s being slow,” or a polite shrug and mouthing the words, “My pencil tip broke/ my pen ran out of ink” are both thoroughly valid excuses.

Talking could also be easily avoided by simply making sure that you never end up in social situations. Staying home all day is obviously the best choice- preferably in a secluded cottage with the basic necessities along with a computer and a television and game system, though the two latter are optional. With those items, one would not need to communicate by speaking with others and could be spared from awkward glances when one does not answer a proposed question. Additionally, all groceries, video games, hair styling products, clothing, etc. should be purchases online. So as to not have to chance having to converse with the garbage man, it would be ideal if everything one buys is biodegradable; this way, one can dispose of things in the backyard. This waste could be thrown out of a large tube connected at one end inside the house and the other end underground in the back of the house so as to not risk having somebody speak to one and ask why one is tossing their wilted belongings into their yard.

Of course, one is still able to speak to others using the computer, typing messages or using e-mail to communicate while sitting in a comfortable recliner (purchased online). This way, all communication and comfort liberties are not taken away but one is still safe.

Think about it this way- why risk injuries, death, embarrassment, and opportunities simply because talking to somebody is more acceptable than writing or mouthing words? Exactly.

End of post.

Farewell!