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The Armstrong Family Circus

published and designed by Wiseacre Design Studio

Maineville • Ohio • USA

Hosted in the United States by Eleven2, Inc.

The King of Plywood and Concrete

 

There's a girl in our neighborhood who every so often comes around to our house. She rings the doorbell. Knocks on the door. She waits and waits. My daughter, a few years her senior, hides away in the dining. Gazing (unsubtly) out the front window, behind the drapes. Peering. Waiting.

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Losing, but not lost

 

Of the few things I remember as a child, some of the most vivid memories are actually dreams. I remember jumping into the air and flying, with my own dogs viciously chasing me, and eating me (ok, yeah, my pattern of horrible dreams goes way way back). Another common dream (that I think many people have had) was how sometimes I was unable to move; like my legs where molded into clay. Slow, trudging steps. Barely able to move.

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It's not your fault (but really, it is)

It's not you (but really, it is)

 

Communication is very important. Obviously without it we're isolated individuals without an outlet to be heard or to comprehend what we hear. Communication exists regardless of how we intent it to be received. Verbal or visual, we all communicate. Just some of us are more clear about it.

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And in the shadow of the valley of your family tree

 

Getting older means reflection. Memories. Eventually you pass that half way point, where you have less life (on average, obviously any of us could die at any time) in front of you than behind you; and you inevitably wonder how useful, purposeful or important of it was. Not just that, but you analyze why you are who you are now, based on your fragmented memory (and in my case, as hazy a frosted window) of the life now long past.

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Removing the pieces of the pattern

 

So this is how Christmas will be from now on. Not forever mind you. Little by little, year after year. Things are taken away. The pattern we grow up with, of what Christmas is and means; the joys and excitement, the traditions, gets replaced.

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Solitary Refinement

 

I've worked alone for 9 years. In a voluntarily solitary space. In front a computer with occassional music playing. I've chosen to be a lone. Without directly interacting with other human beings much more than being "around" them at grocery stores or in client meetings or at the moments between walking in and out of church.

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No wonder I'm a racist, paranoid, psychotic, split personality freak who loves Jesus

 

It takes having your own children to see the twisted and warped views that were subtly instilled within you (and that you often unknowingly shackle on your kids).

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