FLATTERED

(Flattering memories on January 8, 2013 at 9:04am)

Receiving invite from who’s who in the field of writing, though only for the virtual world, from those who all the way from high school had already deservingly carved a name, would make you flattened if not flattered. And you start to doubt yourself again in haste if you’re real “nothing but a second rate trying hard copy-paste.”

And it tempts you to think maybe you’re truly worth their interest. It could be too that, being bored to death in their comfort zone, they also at times need a pest. By asking someone who found total freedom in life through writing, or in this case, typing, would be like begging Count Dracula to guard a blood bank the whole evening.

I used to fear grammarians and vanguards of the eight parts of speech, but I have come to ignore them at Mobile Bay when Farragut bellowed, “Damn the torpedoes!....Full speed ahead!” Thus lately, I understood partly why the pen was said to be mightier than the sword yesterday, though the former is now obliterated by the keyboard/keypad, the mightiest, perhaps for all eternity.

You could feel a great power in writing truly, whether you admit it or deny reluctantly. You sense terrific might and magic within yourself totally, hence you’ve to bear in mind too Pete’s folk who’d say, “With great power comes great responsibility.” Thus, in this regard, I’m always in great awe of the Great Power behind those great men in the past, who wrote the entire sixty-six books of the Bible by hand which, true to form, would forever last.

Past kings of our planet had tried to wipe the Bible off the face of the earth, but because of that Power it survived the onslaught though the Fuhrer swore the last copy of which was already tossed into Germany’s hearth.

It is always all writers’ dream that their works they consider precious would ultimately outlive them. And one medium today that most likely would make it highly possible is the virtual world wherein any attempt to delete even a single-character post is a mission impossible.

So thank you, friend, for the invite, you’re right there maybe, that it’s high time to share my thoughts there too unselfishly. After all, by doing so I could flatter myself simultaneously, and without sweat, huh, really, as, to paraphrase one political personality, copy-paste is the highest form of flattery.