blog

Of Second Chances and Identity

Mon, 11 Mar 2013 22:21:21 +0100

(still working on this)

The World is a Crazy Place

Mon, 14 Jan 2013 22:56:24 +0100

Don't ask. I was feeling the whimsy in my bones, perhaps?

Sobbing over stories?

Mon, 14 Jan 2013 02:22:22 +0100

I recently noticed that I hardly ever cry over the books I read, even though I do read quite a lot. The text never quite gets me in that way, if you catch my drift. And, to be honest, I can't see how or why anyone else would. I've met people who say they do such things, though, and it confuses me. It's a story, you know.

(Although there was that one incident when I decided to read The Amazing Maurice and His Educated Rodents by the marvelous Terry Pratchett and felt a sharp pang in my stomach as the waterlogged, fictional book Mr. Bunnsy Has an Adventure is found. You wouldn't understand; it's symbolic, you see.)

So... anyone out there with thoughts on this? Frankly, I don't get it, but any sort of insight would be readily appreciated. Or maybe I'm just extremely lacking in emotion and am missing out on something the rest of the world seems to get.

Seriously, I'm not a cat

Sun, 13 Jan 2013 14:59:46 +0100

I'm sure at least one of my best friends would beg to differ, but I'm not a cat. I have been, and always will be (I hope) completely human. I mean, I've only got two legs, no tail, and am relatively hairless. I speak English. I have opposable thumbs. I've never even owned a cat. Yet here I am, stuck in a rut and inexplicably tied to felines. And I haven't the slightest idea why.

Well, not exactly. I know I've always liked cats, on some level. My cousin once convinced me to make catlike noises repeatedly for an extended period of time when I was especially small, but I was... especially small. I used to draw pictures of cats in marker with gigantic, arguably bulbous heads and tiny noses. (I failed to understand how the addition of noses made anything more aesthetically pleasing back then; as far as I was concerned, the smaller the nose, the cuter the end result.) And then I decided that I'd better choose a cooler, less mainstream animal to worship as a favorite, and briefly explored the idea of liking wolves. But wolves were dogs, and I couldn't quite understand what the big deal was about. And the whole hierarchy of wolves thing struck me as stupid. I went back to the cats, doodled black silhouettes on folders, and secretly enjoyed the stupidity of online cat images. Perhaps, back then, I would have appreciated the comparison to cats more.

And now? I suppose I've become less interested in the idea of other species; humanity is rather compelling. I wouldn't think that liking cats makes one like a cat. Yet my perpetually ditzy friend persists in telling me that I am "just like a cat". She even once told me that I ought to be a cat when I grow older, although I doubt that was meant to be taken seriously. But she still seems to honestly find me resemblant of cats in some way, and I wonder if I am somehow innately catlike. I haven't the slightest idea what reasons she has, and it's all very suspicious given that my ditzy friend sees everything turned back to front (or, I guess, left to right with added sparkles and rabbit-fairy hybrids fluttering all around) and can be trusted to see everything in her very unique, extremely confusing way.

Yeah... I'm not a cat.

Shamelessly advertising for my brother

Sun, 13 Jan 2013 15:32:50 +0100

My younger brother specifically requested that I not do this, but I can't see the harm. Anyway, I doubt that anyone remotely interested in Childish Dithyrambs would care for his websites. (No offense meant, my dear Samuel.)

But I digress. You see, my brother, although I think he's far too old for this sort of thing, has rekindled his love for Club Penguin. So, for any of you out there interested, do my brother a kindness and please don't visit his brand-new, hardly developed website STICKYCPPSHQ.

Edit: Turns out he's also on Wordpress and Blogspot, too, so he can be found here and here as well.

Hello, all!

Sat, 12 Jan 2013 18:09:13 +0100

Despite the current lack of content, one could say that Childish Dithyrambs is technically online. Which implies that this site actually has a purpose to serve and things to say. Which, of course, is why I felt obligated to make this first post... introducing myself or whatever.

(I once spent a good deal of my time informing people I did not know very well that I could not introduce myself for the life of me. That, unfortunately, still holds true. So wish me luck in my attempts, okay?)

I am, at least for the purposes of this website, Ask, and I created Childish Dithyrambs on what was pretty much a whim. I am but an irresponsible kid, too, so I think you can probably expect some immaturity, too. I like to write, read, draw, doodle, abuse commas (and any other sort of punctuation that allows one to interject slightly irrelevant statements at any given time), and ask odd questions. I was previously stuck in a dash-loving, philosophy-worshipping stage of development, but it appears that I've recently started to gravitate towards psychology.

I also find the idea of a rabbit sporting a large pair of eyeglasses pretty amusing, for some reason. Huh.

But enough about me; this is getting increasingly awkward. I'm off to actually get some real work done, anyway.

I'll get back to Childish Dithyrambs as soon as possible, though, and perhaps render it a bit more interesting. I bid you farewell.