Storytime

There's a time for everything, and the Foam Cabinet revealed that now is the time for stories. I have a ton of 'em, because I've lived for over 16 years. That's more than 180 months. And over 5,800 days! Each day has multiple stories, and they all compile to form my life story.




I'm not the only one.


You.

You have probably lived well over 3,000 days, which means you have well over 10,000 experiences. In those experiences you have hundreds of thoughts, some larger than others. 




You're not the only one!




There are over 7,000,000,000 people currently living in the world. The average life expectancy for this world is  about 65 years of age. That's about 455,000,000,000 years of unique stories in the brains of people living today. 5,460,000,000,000 months. 166,075,000,000,000 days. Trillions, if not quadrillions of thoughts and opinions. TODAY. What about all the people from all of time's existence? You'd probably reach the quintillions, sextillions, or septillions of unique little bits of information. If you want an original story, there are plenty out there. You just have to ask the right questions.

With all that said and done, why don't I share a story with you? I wasn't even alive when this little thought-process took place, but it pertains to me.






Once upon a time, my mother was a child.


In her youthful days, she often visited her grandmother.


Her grandmother lived primarily in Colorado, and this is where my mother went one day.


After a while of chatting and gamboling and frolicking and stuff, my mother needed to go to the restroom.


Upon the finishing of her business, my mother always washed her hands.


Her grandmother never failed to keep her bathroom stocked with a bar of rose-scented soap.


This scent of rosy bubbles set my mother up with a permanent sense of sweet nostalgia.


Fast forwarding to the semi-eventful day of my birth, my dear mother and father wanted to name me.


They gave me the name Carolyn, for my mother loved the ring of the name.


When she wanted to choose my middle name, she was reminded of the days a good while ago.


As she remembered her favorite smell of soap, she named me Carolyn Rose.


Therefore I am named after a hundred-year-old bar of rose scented soap from Colorado.


The end.

It's simple stories like this that can make great conversation enhancers. Perhaps after telling an excerpt of your life's makeup, a good friend of yours might share an interesting, entertaining, or touching little tale of their own. Thus culture is continued, and life is a little more filled with substance. 




Go tell a story! 




I dare you.

An Update to Prepare for an Update.

The Foam Cabinet appeared to me today in a new format: it was slightly larger, and was a slightly different shade of grey. 

I don't know if this means something symbolically, but it happened.

Curious as to why this Foam Cabinet of mine had changed, I decided to open the Foam Cabinet. 

Inside, I saw this:

I think an update is in store, but I'm not sure what it is. You can interpret the images however you'd like... 

But I see CHANGE on the horizon!

Be prepared.

Be very prepared.

Ties. Like A Knot.

Hello, hello.

Previous days have shown me something important. Previous days and the Foam Cabinet, of course.


As I taste the delicate pleasures of sugary coffee every other morning;
As I feel the silky smoothness of my fresh clean clothes;
As I glance at the ever-changing digits on the clock;
I leave the house for the day.


My nose stings from sudden chill.
My hair rustles from common winds.
My feet set course for a new day's beginning.
I arrive at school.


The silence of the outdoors is replaced by the clamor of socialization.
The deep thoughts from my solitude are replaced by the small talk of friendly life accomplices.
The can-do attitude of the previous late night is replaced by the emotionless droll of an early morning.
I finish my classes.


Afternoon instills relief as I walk away from half my life.
Evening provokes inspiration as I converse with peers and fill my stomach.
Night ensures a deletion of memories from the weeks and months before, making room for new ones.
I wake up, and my life continues.


Not every day is exactly like the next. Each is filled with different thoughts of different people. How I can either  express myself or fit in; both are relatively easy. How I can change habits to better someone's life, make new ones, or destroy every remnant of displeasing ones. How I can choose to be upset, or choose to be happy.

These days are "normal" days.

Boring days.

Solitary days.




Now, when I look at a new classmate, I should realize that she probably already knows of my existence. Who else in the school has radiant red hair and a completely gender-confused wardrobe? Will I choose to be boring and forget she exists? Just sit there and pray that her days are good?


Or will I get out of my conceited little bubble and be a friend?


Turns out, every person I meet is important. This fact should not surprise me.
Not only is every person important, but each of us are tied to each other in spectacular ways.

I'm not talking about the gibberish of "we're all connected through magic" or "our ancestors were all monkeys" or any other junk like that. I'm talking about the ties we make ourselves by getting out in the world. The ties of family.
The ties of childhood friendship.
The ties of common interest.
The ties of authority.
The ties of similar drives.
The ties of respect.
The ties of love.
The ties of trying a little harder to simply get out there and make someone's life all the more better.

And who we're tied to determines who we are ourselves; what we do and how we do it. If I don't like the knot I see, then the simple answer to my problem is to break the tie, or form a different one in a different way. If I do like the knot in my rope, I can pull it tighter, so it stays a little longer.

So guess what the Foam Cabinet had shown me?