[something clever and obscure here]The chronicles of Amelia's post road trip adventures
Thursday, June 23
In some ways, I think it would be nice to have a cord coming out of my head that I could plug into someone else's head and then they would know everything going on in my mind without me having to bother to explain it. That's my technological solution to the Vulcan Mind Meld.
Would you be afraid if someone could read your mind? I guess you'd need to ensure that the someone was an understanding, nice, and civilized person who wouldn't take advantage of the fact that they knew all your ins and outs. You wouldn't want to mind meld with someone who would surprise you with a frog once they realized you wet your pants because you're so scared of amphibians. Of course, the optimist in me thinks that someone who could read minds would automatically have more kindness and mercy. The fears and insecurities that keep us from connecting with and trusting other humans would fade away, because there would be little that was unknown. Of course, the pessimist in me thinks mind reading would cause someone to reach the pinnacle of misanthropy. There'd be no room left for optimism about human nature, because there'd be no question about how deeply flawed we all are.
I'm trying to get back in the habit of blogging. Bear with me.
Tuesday, June 14
Today I sat quietly at my computer looking for a tutorial on flute playing. I had the rare experience of opening up a brand new flute this morning. I know someone has touched it before, and I'm sure someone has played a few notes on it. It had to be crafted and tested before being released into the wild. So I'm not the first to touch it or play it, but I'm the first one who held it lovingly and said, "You are mine and we will make beautful music together."
The First Time
I stand out on my porch in the sun, facing the trees. I am outside of my house, but it is more private than inside. I will certainly wake pets and people if I play my flute inside. I feel professional when I hold it. My back is straight, and my hands hold the flute up to my right as I mimic the flute players I've seen. I don't hold it with familiarity. I don't feel comfortable. My fingers don't know where they should rest and press and release. I'm a two year old with a big red crayon. My fingers feel fat and graceless, not light and lively. I don't give up. I play a timid note. Hmm, that sounds a bit breathy, not crisp and clear. I play louder, I press some keys. It needs work, but it's got potential. I'm pleased. Now I just need to figure out how to play this #ucker.
Why I Must Give Up Flute Research by U. Nohoogh
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