Ramblings of Charles Prier – Writer-Insomniac-General Know-it-All

Archive for the ‘Writing’ Category

Maryanne’s Serious Cookies – A metaphor in five paragraphs.

Maryanne makes great cookies. Cookie making is not her profession nor does she depend on it for making a living.  Instead her baking efforts are toward achieving self-fulfillment. Receiving recognition of her success is an addiction, the more she receives the more her ego demands. Each measure of success changes Maryanne, the recognition she craves creates a buzz that she loves and hates at the same time. It gives her a feeling of power yet a makes her acutely aware of a deeply felt inadequacy not only as a cookie maker but as a person.

Over time Maryanne’s talent as a cookie maker has improved but at a slower pace than her ego demands; Maryanne has assumed a lonely loftiness and often becomes frustrated. She is dismissive of cookies baked by others, their recipes, ingredient suggestions, and packaging methods. She puts on an air that in every way her culinary skills are superior to others.

Poor Maryanne is quickly reaching the limits of the recognition her cookie making can provide, leaving her silently shouting for attention with her attitude, mannerisms, and body language.

When she speaks she may try to tell you what you do not want to know, invoking opinions as facts, dogmatic, always inflexible and insensitive to others. You may not remember exactly what she does or what she says but you will likely remember how she makes you feel.

I believe that to preserve my own sanity, my somewhat limited creativity, and my enjoyment of non serious cookie making, I must avoid the society kitchen; unfortunately I will miss many talented and tolerant friends who frequently assemble there. I’ll just bake cookies for the fun of it, self-package them and feed them to the always appreciative Cookie Monster (who will eat just about anything).–CP


Thought as an art form

On New Year’s Eve I watched alone from my living room as the ball fell in Times Square marking the end of 2009. Although it was only 11:00 pm CST, I quietly celebrated the New Year with Dick Clark and all the folks celebrating in the eastern U.S. It was like all the other years, people going wild, blowing horns, and yelling greetings while “Auld Lang Syne” played loudly in the background. It seemed uncivilized. I remember from my other life, getting caught up in the excitement experiencing a mixture of sadness and hope as the old Scottish tune paid homage to the distant past. I felt that sadness again thinking 2009 is gone with few worthwhile personal accomplishments. The feeling of hope or even the need for it was strangely absent, replaced with a kind of mental restlessness and a slight disgust for those celebrating.

I quickly switched the TV off and went to bed.

I lay comfortably contemplating passages in a book I am reading “The World in a Phrase” by James Geary. I suppose it is more of a study than a read; the subtitle is “A Brief History of the Aphorism.” The author claims that thought is an ancient art form and that aphorisms present short, sharp shocks of old forgotten truths that have changed his life. I drifted off to dreamland thinking; living is exactly what I’m doing at the moment and matches my philosophy of life perfectly.-CP

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