Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end.
So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.
"National Geographics" were also a staple at offices I used to frequent, but also those "Highlights" magazines. I always enjoyed seeing what Goofus and Gallant were up to.
To be fair, it was the smuggling of imported cheese without paying the required duty that the Canadian authorities were trying to stop. It just masde for an amusing post, that's all.
Gosh, I was just thinking about this very thing. When I reread some old stuff, I don't remember being the author and think I was a better writer in my past. I do have a folder with a lot of old "crap" in it for rewriting, because here are days I just don't want to think of new stuff.
If we haven't read them before, then they're new to us so no harm, no foul. But you're right to worry about using that resource too often. Gotta keep using the brain to keep it active. A mind is a terrible thing to waste. But it's okay if it takes a day off now and then.
It’s not the limitless expanse of the universe that makes us aware of our insignificance. It’s the vast, incomprehensible number of all the people who have ever lived and those who now inhabit the planet Earth. Each of us is a single grain of sand on a beach that goes on forever. And our only hope for being noticed amongst the myriads of our fellow creatures is that some day we might be driven by the wind from the beach to the sea and so to the depths where we might fall into the mouth of some oyster that then gets irritated enough to begin covering us with a coating of some smooth substance that hardens and eventually makes us into a pearl.
Even then we have to depend on the chance of being found and included in a cosmic string of pearls to grace some infinite neck. Kinda puts us into perspective, doesn’t it?
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