October 3rd, 2000

grandma ryan

"The Little Baby Jesus Wants Your Soul"

i just had a really wierd and frightening dream : / not only was there this wierd freaking out because it was "the apocalypse" but i was a girl at one point and i killed this really sweet boy who liked me and told me. and there were these vines growing outside that house and we were talking about then and i turned back to them and there was a rabbit tied to them and it had an axe and was trying to cut itself free. it was amusing and i wished i had a camera because it was one of those great classic humorous photos. damnit it was a really wierd dream i wish i could remember more of it in detail to link it together. well writing it down will help to keep it somewhat linked in memory, and i can keep thinking about it and work on that. it was messed up. the vines were the thing that happened right before the murder so they are pretty vivid, and the murder was vivid and ridiculous and wow what a gruesome and loaded set of images and rationalizations. the boy said some things we all wish we had never said about anyone. the scary thing is that i have said them or thought them about people whom on learning more i think they would have "killed" me if i'd said anything. guess that's a lesson for us all...those "perfect" ones aren't ever so perfect as we thought. god and it was a brutal kill too...somehow the girl pulled out a knife after he said he liked her[i cant remember if he said he liked her or loved her][i also cant quite tell if i was the girl, was watching her, or was both]and she slashed him across the face and chest a couple times. then someone knocked on the door so she dragged him to the stove which was cooking something and tried to burn away the evidence of the slashes and make it look like he somehow landed there and that's how he died. i dont know, it doesn't make sense, but somehow it did to her. the rest of the dream was interesting too i wish i could remember more...we were playing some sort of net[net not internet] game like volleyball but it was like you had to get it over without it geting blocked and then again the other way, so it was more like keepaway in some regards...and then we were eating before like 8:00pm when the apocalypse was supposed to happen, strangely enough not midnight or some other more typical time. this guy who was the "campus minister" at my HS marked some religious protection on my forehead before it all happened but it was wierd because it was all ridiculous blabber and stupid almost tv religion and superstition instead of anything really i would expect to be powerful. then when it hit 8 everyone ran inside to get food...like, this had something to do with the end of the world. i couldn't get to the food so i just sort of wandered upstairs and got on my computer[ah this is coming back to me]. so i got on and was on irc and there was some sort of graphical version of this...don't ask me, it's wierd. and amanda, and brad[uh ok i dont even know him really] and hmm who else...other people were on this "irc" channel and no one was talking. then i was in a lab with a whole line of computers and there were signs about how if you were a student and didn't already have your own internet access they could get it for you for free, and then this place was also some sort of thrift shop where two girls i was supposed to know were working for the guy running it, but it didn't seem like they were getting paid for it for some reason, and they offered to stay later and i said they really shouldn't have to, but one of the girls reassured me it was ok...then they looked through records in the thrift store and they were all christmas records with santa on the cover and had Really cheesy names i can't even remember but could probably make up...no point in that though.[hah one of the things i came up with is scary when thinking of what i'd make up. "The Little Baby Jesus Wants Your Soul"] haha.... : D And I think I'll end on that note... ; )
grandma ryan

(no subject)

i have a quote from erasmus to put up today...hopefully i will have time to do so sometime after 4. until then i'm booked. it's about insanity...and a bit long. but great ; )
grandma ryan

Erasmus:::Praise of Folly

The book Praise of Folly is a letter by Erasmus, a 15th sentury monk to Sir Thomas More. It is narrated by "Dame Folly", the incarnation of folly and foolishness.

I think most of us will appreciate the conclusion which is arrived at at the end of this passage. ; )

   The nature of insanity is surely twofold. One kind is sent from hell by the vengeful furies whenever they let loose their snakes and assail the hearts of men with lust for war, insatiable thirst for gold, the disgrace of forbidden love, parricide, incest, sacriledge, or some other sort of evil, or when they pursue the guilty, conscience-stricken soul with their avenging spirits and flaming brands of terror. The other is quite different, desirable above everything and is known to come from me. It occurs whenever some happy mental aberration frees the soul from its anxious cares and at the same time restores it by the addition of manifold delights. This is the sort of delusion Cicero longs for as a great gift of the gods in a letter to Atticus, for it would have the power to free him of awareness of his great trouble. Horace's Argive too was on to the right thing. His insanity was only sufficient to keep him sitting whole days alone in the theater, laughing and clapping and enjoying himself because he believed marvellous plays were being acted on the stage, when in fact there was nothing at all. In his duties in life he behaved well:

Pleasant to his friends
Kind to his wife, a man who could forgive
His slaves, and at a bottle's broken seal
Not mad with rage.


When his relatives intervened and gave him remedies to cure him, and he was wholly restored to his senses, he protested like this to his friends:

'My friends,' he said,
'This is not saving; it's killing me to snatch
My pleasure, take by force what I enjoyed-
My mind's delusion.'


He was quite right too. They were deluded themselves and more in need of hellebore than he was for thinking that such a pleasurable and happy form of insanity was an evil to be dispelled by potions.
   But I've not yet made up my mind whether every vagary or mental aberration should be given the name of insanity. A purblind man who takes a donkey for a mule or one who praises an ill-written poem as an excellent one certainly won't be thought insane. But someone who is wrong in his mental judgement as well as in his perception, especially if this is continuous and goes beyond accepted practice, will surely be put down as a borderline case. Take, for example, a man who hears a donkey bray and thinks he hears a marvellous symphony, or some wretched humbly born pauper who imagines he's Croesus, king of Lydia. But often enough this kind of insanity is pleasurable and affords considerable enjoyment both to those who suffer from it and those who witness it but aren't mad in the same way, for in this form it is far more widespread than the common man believes. One madman laughs at another, and each provides entertainment for the other; and you'll often see the madder one laughing the louder at the one who's not so mad. In Folly's opinion then, the more variety there is in a man's madness the happier he is, so long as he sticks to the form of insanity which is my own preserve; and which indeed is so widespread that I doubt if a single individual could be found from the whole of mankind who is wise every hour of his life and doesn't suffer from some sort of insanity.