kis·met \ˈkiz-ˌmet, -mət\ - noun; often capitalized
1. fate.
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"We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language.
That may be the measure of our lives." - Toni Morrison

"Growing up Southern is a privilege, really. It's more than where you're born; it's an idea and state of mind that seems imparted at birth. It's more than loving fried chicken, sweet tea, football, and country music. It’s being hospitable, devoted to front porches, magnolias, moon pies, coca-cola... and each other. We don't become Southern - we're born that way." - Unknown

04 April 2009

Words have no power to impress the mind without the exquisite horror of their reality. - E. A. Poe

Thank you Shuffle for playing "Carolina in My Mind," "Sweet Southern Comfort," and "South Carolina Low Country" right in a row.

{go ahead and insert the sarcasm here}

It's not that she wasn't pleased with the choice of music; She is the first to admit that she simply adores Country. It's just that the weight of her "H.C.B.P.I.T.F." is really beginning to set in. She knows that running away isn't an option. It isn't even a legitimate consideration; it's a cop-out excuse. But still, there are so many places she'd rather be right now than here. {shuffle has an uncanny ability to pick out the perfect songs for your mood} She has worked her way into a less than delightful predicament that she knows is going to inevitably blow up in her face. There's no way around it now. She plays out scenarios in her head, trying to come up with a solution that won't end in tragedy, yet there aren't any. No loopholes. No shortcuts. No 'pass go and collect $200' cards. The readings for her English class today {Sylvia Plath} most directly match the way she feels. Not the suicidal, equating her sorrows with the genocide of an oppressed 6 million people/her tormentors as the Fuhrer way. But rather, the feeling of helplessness, and knowing that she, and she alone will eventually have to deal with her "H.C.B.P.I.T.F." and there is absolutely nothing she can do about it. Both paths are so full of kismet, yet she must stop traveling along one of them eventually. Herein lies the problem: Which path does she abandon? Maybe it matters. Maybe it doesn't. For now she holds on to the hope that fate will decide for her, and spare her the impending doom of that decision that slouches toward her, closer, every day.

2 comments:

lotusgirl said...

I believe we are going to have to talk soon. Not tonight because I'm going to sleep in a min, but soon. how about tomorrow?

peace, love, and rock&roll said...

tomorrow works! :)