Tag Archives: smile

Complimints

complimints

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“It’s hard to frown when you make someone else smile.”

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If ignorance is bliss, is it better to have forgotten something or to never have known it at all?

…I don’t even know how to answer that question.

You could start by picking one or the other.

I mean, you’re asking about the loss of knowledge, where if you have experience either forgetting or not-knowing, then by it’s very nature you won’t know what it is you forgot, or never knew, therefore discrediting your own opinion as soon as you open your mouth.

I get what you’re saying, but isn’t it possible to know what you’ve forgotten, yet impossible to know what you’ve never learned?

Hmm, then I suppose yes and no. I know I used to be good at calculus in high school, but if you gave me a double integral I wouldn’t know where to begin.

Not many of us would.

Anyhow, in that sense I know what I’ve forgotten, but that’s just a matter of practice and maintenance of the mind. But for the other half of that, if we want to get real technical, I’ve never learned how to fart–I just know how to do it.

But that’s just a bodily function. That’s like saying you know how to grow your own hair.

No it’s not. You don’t have to make a conscious effort to grow your hair, but you can however make a conscious effort to fart. It’s something you have control over more or less.

I’m still not buying it… what’s that smell?

Nothing — Anyways, I guess it’s just hard to quantify your own loss of knowledge, ergo consciousness.

Like asking someone, “are you asleep yet?”

Yeah, you need someone else to remember for you.

But if we can’t even trust ourselves to remember, how can we trust someone else to?

Hmm, I guess I’ll start taking more pictures.

Don’t forget to smile.

You don’t have to remind me.

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Dunk Tank

As a kid I remember nailing the dunk tank with a fast ball, but it didn’t go. The guy sitting there just looked around  and avoided eye contact like he didn’t see anything — like he wouldn’t be paying attention. The lady said, “Oh, almost.”

“What do you mean? I pegged it.”

“You have two more tries.” She smiled until I looked away. I missed the next one bad, but I nailed my last attempt, however the guy still didn’t dunk. I threw my hands up. The lady couldn’t smile her way out of it this time. She let me walk up and press the stubborn red knob, kind of like a friendly execution. The man put on his goggles and braced himself with a dry swallow. I looked straight at him, the serendipity of success washed from my face by the bureaucracy of the carnival dunk tank, and watched him fall.

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