Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Neverending Story: Transitions.



                                           A Never-ending Story.
                                          by Mark William Darus.

                                     89 posts in less than six months.

             From myself and freely given to me by others across our planet.




Such a small space and time we have. We are born and soon learn to crawl. Suckling on mothers tit or taking in rubber nipples to gain sustenance. As babes in Toyland, we begin to grow and change so quickly the first two years.

In that time, we learn to say words repeatedly given to us by mother and father, grandma and grandpa’s and hosts of others. ‘Muhhhhh-ma, dahhh-da, grrr’n muh, fuuuuu’kn hooe, ‘ Babies learn quicker than we’d give them credit for.

Time passing quickly, steadily, progressing.

We learn to crawl about the dwelling. Occasionally hitting a corner, stopping us. Bumping nose, we cry. Tiny minds, yet sucking in like a parched sponge given rainfall, filling them. Endless curiosity tweaked, flat on our bellies, moving unsure arms, placing hands to a wall. Pressing onward and upward. Small hands ascending, one after another, left-right, left-right, raising small frame to learn to stand triumphant, saying proudly through action: Here I am!

Standing, failing. Standing and falling less. Wobbly legs giving way with increasing balance. Standing tall. Taking tiny steps, tumbling. Eyes filled with fire, striving once again to get it right. Hours, days, fly by. Getting it right to only go on.

Learning to climb.

Be it climbing up a couch, on a chair to a kitchen table or every parents fear: ascending up an entertainment center. Falling with first attempts, figuring the error and going higher with each failure. Bouncing babes with limber bones, never breaking anything on impact, yet causing blood pressure to soar to heights unknown as mom and dad see our falling is slow motion, unable to reach out and catch us in time.

Now running.

More parental fear rising, especially in the busy parking lots of popular stores. Stern words as their arms yank us back to safety, if you were lucky to have those aware and concerned teach us what is wrong. We learn. Learn to look both ways. To stop and be aware before chasing a ball into a street. Taking in the sound knowledge of caution.

Time and years scream by as we approach the teenage years. It is then we realize the mistakes we’ve made bare consequence to others, as we hurt others by our naive decisions. This is the beginnings of parental insecurity as they wonder where they failed in their teachings. Ignorance is ours during this time in the purest of fashion as we go toward adulthood.


If time frames mean anything at all, I have to consider Psychopathy: Another Life to be in its teenage years. Hopefully learning from ignorant errors of early attempts, hurting many, enlightening others as well as entertaining. I hope it is growing to areas of making sense to others as it goes through its ‘growing pains.’ of teenage life.

This will be P:SA’s Ninetieth entry. Ninety entries. Personally, I didn’t think I had this in me. This did not come without many set-backs and a great amount of frustration.

I could have done this without: Abigail Sommers, Irina Spektor, Tabitha Henson, and Ryn Cricket as contributors.

I could not have done this without the wondrous response of those sending me emails and their comments across the world.

With most humble of thanks given to David T, for his reading my words and him taking the time to give comments and enthusiasm long before I started P:SA and his continued support of P:SA.

David, you are truly one of the few, perhaps the only one, that physically know me to share your thoughts.

Psychopathy: Another Life: Mark William Darus’ Neverending Story.

                      Mark William Darus 08282012