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Anne Frank in a Concession Stand

Coffee fueled I made a toDo list for myself this AM: Write a blog post


Was something, scratched down number three. It's good to accomplish at least one thing, although I don't know why the dopamine surge was so adamant about this.



Hmmm - Hello. What a queer thing to say. I miss that term, not that I was ever acquainted with it. But it is evocative of a cute time. A moment in history when things weren't 'f'ing stupid, ridiculous, lame as h*ll, they were just 'queer'.


And saying Hello, reminds me of the icon blogger, diary entry style phantasmagoria (wrong choice of words) herself: Anne Frank. I was thinking about her, as I was standing in the concession stand. Those thoughts trigger memories, that flash you back to the point you were thinking them. A confusing working years down the line when you are trying to place when an event occurred: or piecing the memories together. Why, why, why, WHY was I in the concession stand while thinking about Anne Frank?! I might say to myself with the flash and the visual. So I will flesh it out here.

I was diatribing. In my head about a conversation, that I had yet to have - but might. YOu know the type. It's best not to get into the habit of these conversations, they have a way of spiraling things out of control before they even begin. And also: psychologically - it is the most unhealthy thought. I have been thinking about judgement, and judging others - and how, the bible says "judge not lest ye be judged' and I realized, that you - somewhere down the line, in some next iteration of yourself, end up doing exactly the thing you said you would never do. Or acting in the same way, that got you so heated about someone else.

That is one way to pieciemeal the thought together that "Everyone is really good at heart"


It always struck me - that Anne Frank, sitting in an attic so her toes didn't show to the gestapo, who would pull them down and snatch her like they'd done to so many of her neighbors (she really reads of a list of people she had heard were 'sent away') - and put her in a concentration camp. A camp where she would literally end up perishing at the hands of these 'really good at heart' men and women. Yes. The brutal irony of that statement, scribbled in parchment comes whirring back to me in pangs often.

Because I believe it too. I can empathize with that sentiment of a thirteen year old girl, in all her truth writing that - she really just doesnt think, that cruelty can be taken out of context: People, are downright just plain - for the most part, good. I was having a thought about my situation, and the way I had been attempting to engrain in my psyche the principle of 'do not judge' and the diatribe, began to unravel at its seams.

At least for that moment, even if it is just naivety, I was kindred to Anne Frank. It can be argued for or against whether people are good, or evil - but the pang I got in connection to Annes Truth that she discovered in the attic whirred through the subconscious vortex and stuck into my brain, as it does often - always making me, of course, and happily - think of Her.


This somehow became a tribute to Anne Frank, who I find fascinating, as I - and everyone else, really should. And of course also the way things creep through the ether unrelated and draw us back to things, and of course, the triviality and the mundanity of the everyday : Concession stand and inner monologue about a yet to happen conversation pending. And the self calibration of Not Judging, and representing to ourselves what that really means.


ITs all connected. Wowwwww Anne, thank you for writing what you did.


And So I will mark this off the To Do List, and Write this. Maybe that's what my dopamine was getting at. Urging me towards. Maybe not.

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