I've got a story. Several, actually, but I'll just tell this one.

Once upon a time there was a girl, and she wasn't a very pretty one. She knew she was supposed to be, because all her friends were, and anyway you had to be pretty to be someone around her hometown. So she learnt the art of make up, and of drawing attention away from her looks by having an overwhelming amount of personality.

Then lo and behold, she grew up and she did become beautiful. Her friends applauded her inclusion into their exclusive circle, and she basked in their attention. Her strong personality stuck around, and with that potent combination she drew men like moths to a flame.

Then her friend began to excel in something she could not - modelling. You see she was never very tall, and the growth spurt that ought to have hit her years ago bypassed her. So she made up for it with even more personality - layer after layer until all you heard was personality. From a mile away.

And you still can hear it. Opinions, thoughts, ideas, descriptions, "things that were, things that are and some things that have not yet come to pass".

Personality. Strong, loud and clear.

And yet so alien.

The most useless opinion is the one that shifts with the murmuring of the crowd.

< bass | treble >

- - 2006-05-29
- - 2006-05-01
on The Ineffable - 2006-03-27
on being a matyr - 2006-03-23
- - 2006-03-17