Little Things

In my ever present quest to become truly humble I have noticed several quirks about myself that I do for no reason other than to reassure myself that I am providing a certain appearance. One of these quirks I noticed yesterday is that when carrying a book around I make a conscious effort to have the title of the book facing outward. It’s not enough that I am carrying a 400 page text book around. No, everyone will know that I am reading a book concerning Linux Administration and they will be impressed damnit! Nay, In awe!.... of my nerdiness. Ridiculous indeed it is, completely fueled by my paranoia around looking un-intelligent.

While appearance is everything when it comes to matters that don’t matter, I wonder what other little horrors I have let slip into my psyche. How many other superficial Kevlar vests have I adopted to prevent myself from ever coming to grips with my true nature?

Literature

If I ever had the time I always thought it would be fun to write a novel. I started writing one at age 18 but quit when I couldn’t come up with a good metaphor to compare the rising of the sun through a window with the first thoughts of the main characters waking hour.

I now present to you the opening lines of a novel I decided to start writing as of 5 minutes ago.

Blood, bath & Beyond
By Brandon Van

1. A symphony, a shot & a Bag

Trent was dead before his body touched the ground. Mouth agape in a final silent scream his torso was lifted awkwardly into the air finally collapsing straight onto his back. Trents’ head soon followed giving a sickening smack as skin, bone, cement and glass all met at once. All present for this event would remember this clamor for the remainder of their short lives. All attempts to stop that sound would prove futile. The noise, the finality the moment. It would be stuck like glue. It would haunt it would taunt and it would suppress every cognitive hour.
As the final echo’s of the gunshot rang through the cavernous halls of the alley the five men still standing stubbornly tried to clear the shock of the moment from their minds Bodies slowly were released from fears paralysis, eyes furiously began to dart sharing and confirming the feelings of terror sadness relief and approval. All knew that everything had changed and there was now no chance of going back. All eyes turned to one individual. With one hand he still tremblingly held his weapon pointed out right where Trent once stood. Right outside the bar they all had frequented for so many years. Right inside the rowdy neighborhood that they all had spent so many nights stumbling around enjoying the far too infrequent moments of pure happiness that life brings us. The hand had its final seizure and abruptly stopped. Silent breaths were taken and held as the remaining five men waited for the hands next move…

And right about there I decided to get some lunch.

Happy Wednesday!