It's cool, I got this. Because I like very much to think of Cecily as a person who appreciates a good system. The judicial system, for example. The system that mom had for organizing where things went in closets or drawers and God help you if you mis-filed a spring jacket with the fall coats. Because the key to any effective system is categorization, and for that you must accept that each thing, each categorized object, person, genus, what-have-you, has certain inherit qualities.
Spring is like this, Cecily. It is not like fall. That is why the outerwear is different. The difference is as distinct as that between a 9mm Glock and a long, skinny turkey-shooter. Not to know the difference is to be an inexcusably lax observer of the world, of the people in it.
Sometimes it does happen that radical changes will alter a thing's categorization, will change how it fits into the system. Like when dad oversaw the re-development of the Baretta CX4 to bring it up from single- to double-action. Or the easy, profound change when Cecily was 16 and could go to the shooting range on her own. Like Madonna going from cool to old. Or like when she's 13 years old and her brother, 10 at the time, is the first person to call her a mutie. Like how it takes the space of an hour for Tony Stark to go from Uncle Tony to a hollowed-out space in the room, at the dinner table, as palpable as dad's empty chair. Like the way mom takes up smoking a year later, and seems to find some measure of peace in it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2010-05-24 03:40 am (UTC)Spring is like this, Cecily. It is not like fall. That is why the outerwear is different. The difference is as distinct as that between a 9mm Glock and a long, skinny turkey-shooter. Not to know the difference is to be an inexcusably lax observer of the world, of the people in it.
Sometimes it does happen that radical changes will alter a thing's categorization, will change how it fits into the system. Like when dad oversaw the re-development of the Baretta CX4 to bring it up from single- to double-action. Or the easy, profound change when Cecily was 16 and could go to the shooting range on her own. Like Madonna going from cool to old. Or like when she's 13 years old and her brother, 10 at the time, is the first person to call her a mutie. Like how it takes the space of an hour for Tony Stark to go from Uncle Tony to a hollowed-out space in the room, at the dinner table, as palpable as dad's empty chair. Like the way mom takes up smoking a year later, and seems to find some measure of peace in it.