Alex’s Neighborhood

So, I've been using my Typepad account instead of VOX, and whenever I come back over this way I have shit loads of spam comments to delete. Surely, VOX, if you delete a spam account, it should automatically delete all of the spam comments they've left as well?

Roger Moore as The Saint

Once upon a time, a man died and went up to Heaven, where Saint Peter was waiting for him at the Holy Gates.

“I’m very sorry,” said Saint Pete, “but I can’t let you in.”

The man was shocked and very disappointed.  “Why not, Saint Peter?” he asked. “Wasn’t I a good man on Earth?”

“You were a very good man, indeed,” replied Saint Pete.“But here’s what your problem was – you could not stop yourself from telling other people how to lead their lives. If they were making a mistake of some kind, you felt compelled to point it out to them.”

Once again, the man was shocked by Saint Peter’s words. “But I don’t understand, Saint Peter. Why was this a bad thing? I was just trying to help them. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to do on Earth -  help people?”

“Not in this instance,” replied Saint Peter sternly. “You never learned to mind your own business. And for that reason, I’m afraid you’ll have to go to Hell.”

The man pleaded with Saint Pete. “Please, Saint Peter, I didn’t mean any harm. I was just trying to help, that’s all. I didn’t know I was doing a bad thing. Please, please, give me another chance?”

Saint Peter looked at the man and could see that he honestly hadn’t meant any harm. Because that was so, he thought that perhaps he might bend the rules…just this once.  However, before he did, he would test the man’s sincerity. Unbeknownst to the man, of course.

“All right,” decided Saint Pete. “I’ll go to the Higher Ups and see what I can do. In the meantime, you wait in that room over there. Just go in, and close the door behind you.”

The room to which the man had been directed was large and empty, save for a bench. As directed, he closed the door as he went in, and sat on the bench, waiting for his verdict. And as he sat, he noticed there was a narrow, open archway which led to an anteroom at the far side, opposite to where he was sitting.

As he was pondering what might be in the anteroom, the door he’d closed opened, and an angel came in. He was carrying a very tall ladder.

“Hello,” said the angel. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. Do you mind if I come through? I’ve just got to take this ladder and leave it in that anteroom over there.”

“Please, go right ahead,” said the man. “You don’t need my permission.”

And then, an odd thing happened. The man watched as the angel walked across the room towards the anteroom, turned his ladder horizontally in his arms,  and attempted to walk through the narrow archway with it. Naturally, he was unable to get through, as the ladder held horizontally was now much too wide.

The man observed with incredulity as the angel made attempt after attempt to get through the archway while holding the ladder thusly. Each time, the ends of the ladder banged against the wall on either side of the opening, propelling the angel backwards, and making quite a mess of the walls it kept hitting, in the process.

Naturally, after about fifteen minutes of this, the angel was winded and perspiring.

“Whew!” he exclaimed. “I didn’t realize this was going to be so difficult.”

The man couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you serious?” he blurted. “If you want to get through, hold the damn ladder vertically!”

The angel shook his head and looked at the man regretfully. “My friend," he said, “this ladder’s not damned, but you are.”

And the next thing the man knew, he was in Hell.

_______________________

I can’t remember how old I was when my father told

 me the story above, but I was still young enough that

my questions were only just starting to become

annoying to him.  Those questions were on every

subject from “Why do you support the war in Vietnam?”

to “Why don’t you ever do anything to stop all the

terrible things going on in this house?”

Since he couldn’t seem to come up with any reasonable

answers for me, the parable above was an attempt to

stave off the inevitable, which was that my

questioning of him would eventually go

from annoying to unbearable… for both of us.

Even my response to this story was not what he’d

hoped. He thought I’d feel forewarned that my quixotic

nature was taking me closer to Hades every day.  But

ironically, all it prompted was another litany of

questions: “What kind of angel is stupid enough to

behave like a human?” and “What kind of God would

send a man to Hell for questioning human stupidity?”

It wasn’t until many, many years later that I recognized

that my father had a point, though perhaps not in the

way he’d believed. Anyone at all, with an average

human intelligence, understands very well which

way one needs to hold a ladder in order to get it

through a narrow archway. But pretending that he

doesn’t, he accomplishes one thing – he can tell himself

he tried to get through with everything he had and

just couldn’t succeed.

The fact is, he doesn’t want to succeed. He says

he has to get through a door and deposit a ladder in

an anteroom, but he doesn’t truly want to.

He just wants to pretend to himself and everyone

else, that he really, really tried.

And because this is actually what he wants – that

illusion of the attempt of a completion of a 'task', which is

another word for a ‘change’ – rather than the actual

change – he doesn’t want anyone to point out to him

that his ‘attempt’ is in actuality no attempt at all.

He doesn’t need anyone getting in the way of
his self-deception. Like my father, it will more  
than irritate him,  because by pointing it out, making him aware that you are aware that he’s lying to himself, you will make him hate himself and, as a result, (especially if your own attempts at change are real, and your desire to help him  is motivated out of genuine caring, rather than smug superiority) – he will hate you, too.

A fast way to hell, indeed.

Remember that the next time you

(metaphorically) observe an intelligent adult holding a ladder horizontally, trying to get through an archway.
 

Say nothing. Wish him “good luck,” and get out of his way.

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I'm sorry I can't answer comments here. They are not possible to answer due to a software glitch on my page, which has now even begun to affect the appearance of my blogs. It's degenerative, I swear.And very irritating.

 If you'd like to leave me a message, please visit patriciavolonakisdavis.wordpress.com. Thank you very much.

Kzinti and Baria - thank you for your comments over at my wordpress blog. They meant a lot. I miss you.

Hello Vox Neighbours!

Remember me? I sort of live here still... when VOX gives me permission to post, and when I'm not working endless hours on Lord-only-knows-what. (In fact, right now, VOX is not letting me change font sizes. I have come to loathe this software)

One of the things I've been up to, is the epic-making of this four minute vid, badly shot by me, using my computer, (a first) with my intern's help. It took all day, believe it or not, and it's still awful. I take full responsibility. It's through no fault of my intern, honestly. She showed me how to work all the buttons, how to "redirect the folder" (which I know I won't remember a second time), and she was cheering me on from off-camera. She shall remain publicly unnamed however, because - as you will see - she's amazingly publicity-shy.

Anyway, this is the Drawing Result for the contest we held on the Harlot's Sauce Facebook Fan Page and which I posted here, also, a while back. I know some of you were entered, and I was super-stoked when I realized that the winner is someone we all know and love. It took about thirty seconds to make the connection between her real name and her VOX name. 

I admit that of all the things we've been doing lately to promote my book, running this contest was one of the fun ones. But discovering who the winner was really put it over the top on the enjoyment scale for me.

Congratulations to one very special human being.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6-fEArRxYYQ

Also, for those who might be  interested - (though my guess is by now, you're probably not, since I'm getting pretty sick of all this stuff, so I can imagine how you feel  - here is my just-about-ready  new book cover. I know the designers worked very hard on it, and I think it's a lovely work and a job well-done. The interior however, remains pretty much the same,  except for the routing out of a few more typos; credit for the detection of which goes to my old pal, SNOWY.  ('Sidney' indeed. I never spelled it like that - that was some sort of copyediting software, I swear!)

And now, back to work!   : )

This week I have foolish offered to babysit my nephews whilst my brother honeymoons with his new wife. Yep, that's right, whilst they sun themselves in the Dominican Republic without a care in the world I have managed to lumber myself with two young boys for an entire week! I am only one day in and although I am exhausted (feels like midnight and it's not quite half 10) it has proved quite an interesting insight in to their minds.

We have already discussed Jesus (the eldest explains, "I don't believe in him, but I do believe in his friends"), Hollyoaks, fashion ("why are you wearing those leggings?"), football and now Michael Jackson. In fact, we have discussed the late King of Pop at quite some length as both boys have realised they are fans of his work (such band wagoneers). This means that no car journey passes without the sounds of Thriller filling my ears.

This evening, the eldest found a gossip magazine lying around which offered "Photos of Michael Jackson's secret family". As I was not paying attention initially, I was lead to believe that this was photos of Paris and blanket who were famously covered up for much of their lives. This resulted in many questions about why they were hid away which is quite difficult to answer when I do not know myself.

It turns out that these were actually photos of Michael's "secret" son who Joe Jackson has proclaimed was the result of a one night stand. This is a difficult idea to explain to an 8 year old as the very idea of a one night stand seems quite obscene. Next, I am asked why the singer looks so sad in photos. Without even thinking I reply, "Well he said he often felt quite lonely". My nephews face looks both confused and sad so I try and pull it back, "When you're famous – it's difficult to be friends with people who are not famous."

His face is still not convinced. I want to explain that people are money grabbers, but feel this conversation is a bit too deep for such a young, innocent boy. I manage to steer the conversation away by pointing out some of the photos and then I am asked about his skin changing issues. Geez, I feel like I should have been issued with guidance. How am I sposed to explain such a controversial man to such a young boy?

"Err, he had an illness that affected his skin and he had quite a big nose that he didn't like very much. His Dad used to make fun of him..." This seems to upset him slightly, and he states, "but he looks like a woman?" I can't argue with that. As if to demonstrate his point he turns the page and points at Megan Fox (an innocent victim), "She looks like Michael Jackson!"