Refracted Neurons

There are certain children's books that I can't read without adding commentary.  One is the book Stop, Train, Stop!   It looked innocent enough when I picked it up from the thrift shop, but once I started reading, I realized this was one of those books that shoves sugar-coated conformity down the throats of unsuspecting parents.  I would say children too, but I honestly think that goes over their heads.  They're more interested in the objects flying around the train and the detailed illustrations.  So let's get cracking. Thomas wakes up one day and realizes that his whole life is going down the same track over and over again, stopping at the same stations, at the same speed, over and over.  Realizing this, he begins to ask himself, "What is the purpose of life?  Do I matter?  Can I change my destiny?" If this isn't the face of ennui, I don't know what is. It doesn't occur to him to go off track or even go backwards.  No, all Thomas want

I could see my shadow lapping against my feet, trailing behind me on a string, lifting up into the sky. I didn’t notice it rattle in the wind, coast up the side of a skyscraper, didn’t see it tangle in the web of wires. I only knew that the pavement was a stranger, and the outline of you vanished; and even though my chest trembled, I opened my arms, shaky, radiant, embracing a beauty found in incompleteness . . . oooooooooooooooooooooooo oooooooooooooooooooooooo Just when I think I’ve got the hang of corporate culture, I go and do something that makes my boss laugh hysterically. Namely, using indexing tabs in the shape of bears. Me: Why is that so funny? Boss: They’re pink and blue bears. Me: I didn’t have purple ones, so I used blue. Boss: (Resumes laughing) I still don’t know why that was so funny, and this is a document that’s going all the way to the Principal, bears included. My other tabs are hedgehogs, but I’m not telling anyo

We were driving down the road in Portland when I saw it: " Pittock Mansion <-----" It took a bit of convincing, but before the day's end I was standing here: My husband always makes fun of me for taking pictures of odd things when playing tourist, and in that tradition, I present you with my series of telephones: Aren't they cute with their beady little eyes and beak-like mouths? The mansion itself was full of beautiful architecture, sweeping views of Portland, and most enjoyably, some slightly eerie decor. Sort of spooky.  I mean, I'm not scared, are you? Oh my God!  What is that under the puppet theater? Even better, check out this display: Tuberculosis! A hauntingly beautiful sleeping porch.