Episode 43: In which the Prime Minister of the planet Crypticmessages gives her long overdue State of the Disunion Address
Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to begin by welcoming you to my humble planet of Crypticmessages. Due to the holidays and a rather extended vacation in the faraway land of Wareyewhasraized, I have been forced to temporarily neglect my duties as leader of this small but gorgeous corner of the World Wide Web. It is my sincere hope that, my schedule returning to normal for at least a few months, I will be more able to perform my duties on a regular basis. Furthermore, I wish to state my attempts at something new: breaking from the customs of my home planet by making this address less cryptic than usual.
The first order of business is to discuss the last few days of my travels. It so happens that in the past week, I have lived in all three of my pseudo-homes. However, at the moment I am incredibly glad to be living in this one. Tonight will mark the first night in nearly three weeks that I will rest in my own bed and I look forward to that occasion with much zeal. I also am greatly relieved to finally be allowed to unpack, as I have spent the last month living out of my "suitcase"- although "laundry bag" might be a more appropriate word. Unfortunately, I have begun constructing a list of objects inadvertently left behind in the faraway land of Wareyewhasraized, and it already numbers 8 items. However, I plan to retrieve these important items in just a couple weeks in order to avoid any negative situations that may arise.
I returned home to the planet Crypticmessages and the loving city of Plaiceyeghetskuled on Tuesday. It felt as if I had left here only the day before. In my case however, it was the city’s slogan that indirectly brought me back. "Plaiceyeghetskuled, where people make the difference." A failing love for one city and a migration of people is what convinced me to return a week earlier than I had originally planned. I would like to point out that it has been worth every second. I am glad to report that nothing of significance has occurred; there have been no unwanted epiphanies, nor long moments of reflection. The past five days have simply been a glimpse into that elusive myth I am, for the moment, doomed to keep chasing.
On my first night in this city, the weather was dismal and wet in the low 40's. There was an unexpected knock at the door, and a visitor entered, still wet from the slight misting the sky was blessing us with. My host and I, along with our visitor, proceeded to spend the next hour cooking and eating a delicious tuna helper for dinner, complete with frozen peas and carrots. The plan was to then return home with the visitor in order to view a film, but upon opening the door, our trio discovered five inches of snow on the ground and giant white flakes falling fast from the overcast sky. Despite this obstacle we managed the ten minute walk to a building that would become very familiar to me over the next six days, although I had already been acquainted with it for a short time. We began by watching the recent Bill Murry film, Broken Flowers. Roughly halfway through the film, however, we were interrupted by the downstairs residents, personal friends of mine, who wished for us to behold their perfect snow man that they had constructed under the awning of a church on the other side of the park. So we put our movie on hold to witness this work of art. And work of art it was. I must confess, in all my years as Prime Minister, I have never seen a snowman as perfect as this one. The night was beautiful and on the return romp through the park a spontaneous snowball fight broke out. The snow was excellent for packing, a rare occurrence, and the sky was brilliantly clear, highlighting the giant, glowing orb of a moon that hung low on the horizon. It seemed to be a perfect moment. Afterwards, we finished viewing our film.
The next few days followed somewhat of a routine. Wake up around noon and eat breakfast. Watch TV for several hours. Be unexpectedly greeted with the same visitor knocking on the back door. Eat dinner. Watch a movie. Nothing much happened to report on outside of this routine, but I will mention a few moments of significance to myself, though perhaps not of significance to any other resident of this planet. There was one day which I spent doing a puzzle in the small apartment of the downstairs neighbors with the unexpected visitor, my host, and of course the residents. Although the puzzlers varied throughout the day due to unrelated obligations, it didn’t much matter. It was silver and gold all together, blended in a perfect alloy, resplendent in the moment. The weather outside was like summer, and the bizarre music floating around the room was like a sturdy wooden door, swung open at the front of a house. We were each of us independently concentrating on our own little section of the puzzle, and yet there was a sense of camaraderie. But it was not any of these sensations that made the moment. It was simply the longest moment of realization that I had finally gotten what I wanted, and it was the only time that realization came without its usual accompanying depressing thoughts. Somehow that moment managed to avoid the overwhelming knowledge that what I had was not what I thought it would be. It never ever is. But perhaps I had finally accepted this as fact, and that was the reason my insignificant realization was what it should have been.
I learned that Plaiceyeghetskuled has a community garden, just like the several at Wareyewhasraized. I believe that it was this knowledge which allowed me to extend my moment of living in the myth for so long, because it brought promises of a genuine summer, not this mockery that paraded around outside in the middle of January. It brought promises of drawing me further into the myth. It neared a state of pure ecstacy. I was happy as each day followed the same nondescript formula of lazing on a couch, watching a movie, venturing the lonely walk home at night through deserted streets. I thought I had perhaps reached the point where I could see the purpose of this place.
I had found the secret to living happily in Plaiceyeghetskuled. Now I wait impatiently for the onset of May, as a small child sits through the Thanksgiving meal in stark anticipation of Christmas morning. My mind has forgotten all the pleasures of the past in expectance of the possibilities the future holds. To err is human, and I will admit to my faults; there have been a rare few secrets which I have in fact been successful in keeping. When it is truly important, I will hold my tongue. But now when I should be gossipping I can't seem to find the words. And when they're teased out of me, I deny it. Perhaps denying something will make it untrue. But all I'm looking for is to make it less awkward. However, awkwardness is a part of life and it cannot be avoided. So I tease back, like a schoolgirl passing illegible notes when the instructor's back is turned. I can't decide if the subject of the note is worth it, though.
I realized yesterday that my senior year in office as PM will be a lonely one, as all my friends in the government will have moved on to bigger and better things by then. But I foresee bountiful times between then and now. I sincerely hope that this winter break spent on this beautiful planet in this hospitable city is only a foreshadowing of things to come. I could have spent a lifetime curled on a colorful couch with an unexpected visitor watching hours of Firefly. I could have spent eternity leaning on floral patterns, arranging fragments of a crumbling stucco wall on a glass table top, bathing in the promising warmth of the sunlight and whispers of zephyrs outside, gently being swayed by the silence of my peers and the soft instruments in the background. Seemingly endless lists of entertainment mixing with the elegant twists of the lingering scent of sandalwood. It was a short six days, but I knew then that I could make it.
Waiting forever is agonizing, however. In order to correctly perform my duties as leader of this planet, I promise to bring my mind back to the present. My vacation in the faraway land of Wareyewhasraized had its downpoints as well: it seemed to distance me irreperably from everything I had searched out and claimed last semester. It's going to take a little work to get it all back again. But work that I am willing to do, however.
I regret that I can no longer give my full attention to this speech, so I will end it now. Good luck to all my loyal subjects (and my unloyal subjects, as well) in the upcoming season of classes. I return now to my glorious bed and the wonderful television to rot away my brain and body.
Adieu
The first order of business is to discuss the last few days of my travels. It so happens that in the past week, I have lived in all three of my pseudo-homes. However, at the moment I am incredibly glad to be living in this one. Tonight will mark the first night in nearly three weeks that I will rest in my own bed and I look forward to that occasion with much zeal. I also am greatly relieved to finally be allowed to unpack, as I have spent the last month living out of my "suitcase"- although "laundry bag" might be a more appropriate word. Unfortunately, I have begun constructing a list of objects inadvertently left behind in the faraway land of Wareyewhasraized, and it already numbers 8 items. However, I plan to retrieve these important items in just a couple weeks in order to avoid any negative situations that may arise.
I returned home to the planet Crypticmessages and the loving city of Plaiceyeghetskuled on Tuesday. It felt as if I had left here only the day before. In my case however, it was the city’s slogan that indirectly brought me back. "Plaiceyeghetskuled, where people make the difference." A failing love for one city and a migration of people is what convinced me to return a week earlier than I had originally planned. I would like to point out that it has been worth every second. I am glad to report that nothing of significance has occurred; there have been no unwanted epiphanies, nor long moments of reflection. The past five days have simply been a glimpse into that elusive myth I am, for the moment, doomed to keep chasing.
On my first night in this city, the weather was dismal and wet in the low 40's. There was an unexpected knock at the door, and a visitor entered, still wet from the slight misting the sky was blessing us with. My host and I, along with our visitor, proceeded to spend the next hour cooking and eating a delicious tuna helper for dinner, complete with frozen peas and carrots. The plan was to then return home with the visitor in order to view a film, but upon opening the door, our trio discovered five inches of snow on the ground and giant white flakes falling fast from the overcast sky. Despite this obstacle we managed the ten minute walk to a building that would become very familiar to me over the next six days, although I had already been acquainted with it for a short time. We began by watching the recent Bill Murry film, Broken Flowers. Roughly halfway through the film, however, we were interrupted by the downstairs residents, personal friends of mine, who wished for us to behold their perfect snow man that they had constructed under the awning of a church on the other side of the park. So we put our movie on hold to witness this work of art. And work of art it was. I must confess, in all my years as Prime Minister, I have never seen a snowman as perfect as this one. The night was beautiful and on the return romp through the park a spontaneous snowball fight broke out. The snow was excellent for packing, a rare occurrence, and the sky was brilliantly clear, highlighting the giant, glowing orb of a moon that hung low on the horizon. It seemed to be a perfect moment. Afterwards, we finished viewing our film.
The next few days followed somewhat of a routine. Wake up around noon and eat breakfast. Watch TV for several hours. Be unexpectedly greeted with the same visitor knocking on the back door. Eat dinner. Watch a movie. Nothing much happened to report on outside of this routine, but I will mention a few moments of significance to myself, though perhaps not of significance to any other resident of this planet. There was one day which I spent doing a puzzle in the small apartment of the downstairs neighbors with the unexpected visitor, my host, and of course the residents. Although the puzzlers varied throughout the day due to unrelated obligations, it didn’t much matter. It was silver and gold all together, blended in a perfect alloy, resplendent in the moment. The weather outside was like summer, and the bizarre music floating around the room was like a sturdy wooden door, swung open at the front of a house. We were each of us independently concentrating on our own little section of the puzzle, and yet there was a sense of camaraderie. But it was not any of these sensations that made the moment. It was simply the longest moment of realization that I had finally gotten what I wanted, and it was the only time that realization came without its usual accompanying depressing thoughts. Somehow that moment managed to avoid the overwhelming knowledge that what I had was not what I thought it would be. It never ever is. But perhaps I had finally accepted this as fact, and that was the reason my insignificant realization was what it should have been.
I learned that Plaiceyeghetskuled has a community garden, just like the several at Wareyewhasraized. I believe that it was this knowledge which allowed me to extend my moment of living in the myth for so long, because it brought promises of a genuine summer, not this mockery that paraded around outside in the middle of January. It brought promises of drawing me further into the myth. It neared a state of pure ecstacy. I was happy as each day followed the same nondescript formula of lazing on a couch, watching a movie, venturing the lonely walk home at night through deserted streets. I thought I had perhaps reached the point where I could see the purpose of this place.
I had found the secret to living happily in Plaiceyeghetskuled. Now I wait impatiently for the onset of May, as a small child sits through the Thanksgiving meal in stark anticipation of Christmas morning. My mind has forgotten all the pleasures of the past in expectance of the possibilities the future holds. To err is human, and I will admit to my faults; there have been a rare few secrets which I have in fact been successful in keeping. When it is truly important, I will hold my tongue. But now when I should be gossipping I can't seem to find the words. And when they're teased out of me, I deny it. Perhaps denying something will make it untrue. But all I'm looking for is to make it less awkward. However, awkwardness is a part of life and it cannot be avoided. So I tease back, like a schoolgirl passing illegible notes when the instructor's back is turned. I can't decide if the subject of the note is worth it, though.
I realized yesterday that my senior year in office as PM will be a lonely one, as all my friends in the government will have moved on to bigger and better things by then. But I foresee bountiful times between then and now. I sincerely hope that this winter break spent on this beautiful planet in this hospitable city is only a foreshadowing of things to come. I could have spent a lifetime curled on a colorful couch with an unexpected visitor watching hours of Firefly. I could have spent eternity leaning on floral patterns, arranging fragments of a crumbling stucco wall on a glass table top, bathing in the promising warmth of the sunlight and whispers of zephyrs outside, gently being swayed by the silence of my peers and the soft instruments in the background. Seemingly endless lists of entertainment mixing with the elegant twists of the lingering scent of sandalwood. It was a short six days, but I knew then that I could make it.
Waiting forever is agonizing, however. In order to correctly perform my duties as leader of this planet, I promise to bring my mind back to the present. My vacation in the faraway land of Wareyewhasraized had its downpoints as well: it seemed to distance me irreperably from everything I had searched out and claimed last semester. It's going to take a little work to get it all back again. But work that I am willing to do, however.
I regret that I can no longer give my full attention to this speech, so I will end it now. Good luck to all my loyal subjects (and my unloyal subjects, as well) in the upcoming season of classes. I return now to my glorious bed and the wonderful television to rot away my brain and body.
Adieu
posted by Emma at 11:24:00 PM
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