Published by Michael Seidel
Science fiction, fantasy, and mystery writer. Singer (sorry, no shows) & nudist (in my home). Beer, cat, cheese, coffee, pie and wine friend. Left IBM and Silicon Valley for the southern Oregon life but I miss the ocean. We're too far inland. Gotta move.
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interesting…I wonder if it doesn’t start when you’re still a very small child, trying to please mummy and daddy, and it seems that no matter how hard you try, it’s never enough. “that’s lovely, dear, but maybe next time color the horsey brown instead of yellow?” We never remember our successes, at least not entirely, but oh, how we remember the failures, the sunken rowboat, the broken foot, the time you looked up when someone shouted LOOK OUT and got the volley ball upside your head…and there is always someone who says ohhhhh you’ll do better next time. for some things there is no next time.
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I wonder that as well. How we come to be who we are. The things that stay with us and shape us, whether we remember them or not.
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Good question. It does seem that we recall vividly our broken arm, the time you got hit upside the head with a baseball, or when your girlfriend dumped you for no reason. What hurts, stays with us. damn all, 60 years later and I can still remember stuff like that. Maybe because it leaves a dent in the brain somewhow.
Success, pleasure, winning, and then it’s over and you go back to hitting your head on low hanging branches. every. single. time.
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You have me laughing, girl, commisserating, and nodding, agreeing, “I hear ya.” Cheers
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Sad but true.
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