People once believed that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead. But sometimes, something so bad happens that a terrible sadness is carried with it and the soul can’t rest. Then sometimes, just sometimes, the crow can bring that soul back to put the wrong things right.
To stop it from conquering the planet they injected human brain cells from an incompetent weirdo into a seperate mouse and then put the two mice in the same cage so the silly mouse will always frustrate the terrifying genius mouse’s plans
The rest of the elves in the undying lands: the fact that any elf can fall in love with a human is sad and somewhat puzzling. We mourn Luthian and Arwen who dared to choose mortal life. That such a union is possible is both wonderous and sorrowful. We solemnly welcome the ringbearers though, the only ones who are not elves welcome in the undying lands due to the great burden they carried for the salvation of the world
Legolas showing up late on a half sunk raft holding up Gimli: HEY EVERYONE I MADE IT! MEET MY DWARF GIMLI! WE TOTALLY GOT MARRIED!
The other elves: (⊙_⊙)
Galadriel: this is hilarious. I love it! I completely and utterly give my full approval!
The other elves: щ(゜ロ゜щ)
“Meet my dwarf,” like there are many dwarves he could have brought but this one is his.
Legolas: I don’t know why everyone’s so shocked I can’t possibly be the first elf to do this.
Other Elves: YOU ARE DEFINITELY THE FIRST ELF TO DO THIS, YES!!!
Legolas: …Oh.
*whispered conversation with Gimli*
Legolas: Well tough beans if you want your own dwarves you’ll have to sail back for them yourselves.
Nearly everyone I know feels that some quality of concentration they once possessed has been destroyed. Reading books has become hard; the mind keeps wanting to shift from whatever it is paying attention to to pay attention to something else. A restlessness has seized hold of many of us, a sense that we should be doing something else, no matter what we are doing, or doing at least two things at once, or going to check some other medium. It’s an anxiety about keeping up, about not being left out or getting behind. (Maybe it was a landmark when Paris Hilton answered her mobile phone while having sex while being videotaped a decade ago).
The older people I know are less affected because they don’t partake so much of new media, or because their habits of mind and time are entrenched. The really young swim like fish through the new media and hardly seem to know that life was ever different. But those of us in the middle feel a sense of loss. I think it is for a quality of time we no longer have, and that is hard to name and harder to imagine reclaiming. My time does not come in large, focused blocks, but in fragments and shards. The fault is my own, arguably, but it’s yours too – it’s the fault of everyone I know who rarely finds herself or himself with uninterrupted hours. We’re shattered. We’re breaking up.
It’s hard, now, to be with someone else wholly, uninterruptedly, and it’s hard to be truly alone. The fine art of doing nothing in particular, also known as thinking, or musing, or introspection, or simply moments of being, was part of what happened when you walked from here to there alone, or stared out the train window, or contemplated the road, but the new technologies have flooded those open spaces. Space for free thought is routinely regarded as a void, and filled up with sounds and distractions.
Rebecca Solnit.
“Right now we need to articulate these subtle things, this richer, more expansive quality of time and attention and connection, to hold onto it. Can we? The alternative is grim, with a grimness that would be hard to explain to someone who’s distracted.” – Rebecca Solnit.
