Create

funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Create: (v) to cause to come into being

You created me.

So the story goes.

What was your intention?

Was I literally the next step in the evolutionary chain?

That would be fine. Yet I have to admit to you, I’m a damn far sight cuter than a chimpanzee. Maybe it was your time for a leap of faith.

The tale also includes that you created me in your image.

Which image?

Since you’re a spirit, there is no physical. So am I created in your spiritual image? (I’m sorry, I don’t think you’ll be able to buff out the dents I’ve generated in that situation.)

So what is your image? Well… I know you create. Duh.

So did you create me to be a creator? Will we compete? I suppose not. You can do the whole galaxy thing—I can make a telescope to see your stars.

So was I created to be creative? Was I evolved to further evolve? Or was I an accident due to some sort of ethereal busted rubber?

It’d be nice to know.

I must be candid with you—your response time is poor. Maybe it’s because the staff you have to work with consists of other humans like myself, easily carried away by their own fantasies, and they forget to be helpful.

I don’t know.

I refuse to be a chimpanzee. I don’t have the hair for it.

I’m reluctant to believe I was an accident.

I am waiting for an assurance agent, not an insurance agent. (See how creative I can be? What did you think of that assurance/insurance thing? A play on words.)

Maybe that’s what I am. Maybe you were making angels and you fucked some of them up and decided to rename them “human.” I can buy that. We’ve all had embarrassing workdays.

Here’s what I’m going to do:

I am going to believe that you created me in your image, which is a creative one, so that I would find a way to create, with the materials provided for me.

I don’t know whether this is right or not—but I do believe it promotes sanity.

It’s a much easier story to follow than me being a ping-pong ball in a fevered match between you and Beelzebub.

 

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Commitment

Commitment: (n) the state or quality of being dedicated to a cause, activity, etc.

Religion gets in the way of my faith.

Politics robs me of my freedom.

Budgets take the joy out of money.

Discussing morals makes me too weak to enjoy sin.

Every time a committee gets together and decides something, a little piece of me ends up dying.

So I have become a rebel with a cause. The cause is to maintain the integrity of my sanity. So here are my commitments:

  1. I will pursue good cheer all the days of my life to avoid being obnoxious.
  2. I will notice when people do good and blind myself to stupidity.
  3. I will create something every day.
  4. I will appreciate the efforts of others, and linger for a moment to celebrate with them.
  5. I will stop talking about God and try to impersonate Him.
  6. I will continue to think of life as a comedy club instead of a prison.
  7. I will not put anything in my body that struggles to come out.
  8. I will laugh more than I cry, and all my crying shall end in laughter.
  9. I will avoid becoming adult because only children can truly lead us.
  10. I will honor these commitments and commit myself to pursuing not to be committed.

 

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Anatomically Correct

dictionary with letter A

Anatomically correct (adj): {of a doll} having the sexual organs plainly represented.

Humans share two things in common:

  • the need to have something bigger than ourselves
  • and the desire to always be bigger.

It is a mental infestation.

Because in trying to find something bigger than ourselves, we usually come up with some sort of god-figure who is more cantankerous than helpful.

And with the penchant for wanting to be bigger, we often become petty and fussy with one another.

I remember junior high school locker room during shower time–even though the guys sincerely tried to make it clear that they weren’t “gay” or, as we called it at that time–“queer”–we all had a tendency to peek over to see what manly bestowal had been granted to our neighbor.

I guess with girls it revolves around the breasts.

Of course, in junior high school, some guys had bloomed earlier and others had a similar wee-wee to what was afforded them right out of the womb.

So self-conscious, nervous, frustrated and almost paranoid energy permeated the steamy room. And the worst part of it was that the only comfort afforded to your being was discovering someone smaller than you.

Therefore I’m a little bit put off or even intimidated by the notion of “anatomically correct dolls.” Even though they are inanimate objects, in their own way they seem to scoff at me from their pre-determined status.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s saint or sinner, priest or penitent, or prophet or porn star. We are all unnecessarily preoccupied with our presence and prowess in that limited region beneath our belt.

Matter of fact, the criterion for maturity may be a successful ability to ignore such instinct and push past it, creating something of beauty that just might be everlasting.

Here’s what I think about my anatomy:

If it’s working and not trying to kill me, I really don’t want to give it too much attention.

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Thank you for enjoying Words from Dic(tionary) —  J.R. Practix