Oh how long it's been

Truly. Over a month.

Finally, I've achieved a bit of breathing space. Adding to all the cleaning I've been doing over the year, the Buick is now gone, sold at auction last Friday. No details forthcoming since the only point is that it took an entire year after the convertible to feel entirely comfortable with it and secure enough that I didn't feel the need to hold on to the old energy of the old car.

That following Saturday, yesterday, I had my carpets cleaned. Oh the joy. I'd forgotten the true beautiful color of my carpet. It looks like new. Sadly, I'd evidently let quite a bit of dirt build up before coming clean. So like the energy work I'm doing. So like how much gunk I allowed to build up on my energy body before I got down and dirty and decided to clear out old useless and grimy impediments to letting my light shine fully in the world.

With all that cleaning going on, I also needed to take some time to just rest in it. To allow the change in energy to settle into my being.

It's done that, so now to the topic that got me back on blog.

I just watched Butterfly Effect. Powerful impact on me. I love the darkside of movies. It's sci-fi. The main character, Ashton Kutcher's character, has stumbled upon the ability to go back and time and change the past in the hopes of effecting a desired change upon his future. Well, not just his future. He wants to change the future for him and the girl he loves.

So, no matter what he does, like any decent feature length film requires, he and the girl never end up happily ever after.

Back to that in a moment.

I also just recently finished reading Mary Shelly's Frankenstein. Nevermind the movies based around it, the book is a good read. I related to the characters immensely. The seething loaners drawn to the arcane knowledge, adventure and lofty goals too fantastic for the average Joe.

As the book winds down to its endind, the hideous, murderous creature comes aboard a ship in the middle of the arctic ocean. On this ship is the dead body of his creator, Frankenstein, who has just told his tale of fantastic horror to the loaner adventurer who at books beginning longed to have a friend, a companion. The Adventurer, Mr. Walton, had hoped that Frankenstein might become that friend.

But that was not to be. Like I said, he dies.

We have learned by the end that the created being, this loathed being, only turned to murder, as it is conveyed, because when he sought out love, at every turn, he was rejected. No matter the goodness in his heart, no matter his doing the greatest of deeds for nothing more than approval and acceptance and a sense of belonging, his fate was to be shunned because of his hideousness.

By the way, if you have not read the book, he is a most eloquent monster.

When the monster comes on board to mourn the passing of his creator, he engages in a conversation of great remorse to Mr. Walton, the loaner longing for a friend. The loaner who is about to have to turn away from his dream of traveling to the North Pole because the shipmates over which he is captain have turned yellow at the first sign of danger and have just made him promise to return to Europe should they manage to extricate themselves from being stuck in the ice--which is the case when Frankenstein dies and his creature engages in remorse.

As I read this, I am overcome with great emotion. It seems so obvious how the conclusion of the novel should proceed. The monster who has, throughout the book, traversed the most inhospitable climates and terrains should obviously offer to assist Mr. Walton in continuing his journey. He had, afterall, attended to Frankenstein during the across-the-world chase when Frankenstein vows to murder his own creation...should he ever manage to catch him...which he does not manage to do in life.

And why would Mr. Walton accept? Well, because at the novel's beginning he is desperate for a friend. It is just too clean. So obvious to me was this conclusion that I am not embarrassed to share that tears rolled down my eyes and I actually had to get up and walk around because it was such a profoundly wonderful ending...that I had imagined. Everyone wins. Sure the creature had killed a few people in revenge, but only when he was rejected by his very creator. Am I the only one who sees room for forgiveness here?

And, true, the creature is made out to be a bit much on the eyes. But if you had read just how desperate this Mr. Walton was for a friend, surely something akin to a berka could not have been too difficult to conceive in time.

After my emotional response to this fairytale imagining of a perfect end to this classic, the real ending left me wanting. If I haven't already spoiled it for you, you can read (or perhaps guess) the actual tale's ending.

Back to Butterfly Effect movie:
By the time Kutcher's character is on the fifth attempt to re-right and re-write his and his true love's future for the happy ending, the unintended tragic consequences have become, for a dark comedy lover such as myself, laugh-out-loud hilarious. I can't believe them. Too rich. So creative on the part of the writer's and producers.

So here's what all that has to do with cleaning house.

I won't spoil that ending for you either. Suffice it to say that it was the same general let down that I had after ending Frankenstein.

But I remembered how much I love dark endings. They have never bothered me before. In fact, in my own experiments with short stories, the climax has always revolved around some sudden courage or twist of fate leaving someone dead. I write trajedy. I've only written trajedy. What's the problem now.

Like I said, I got rid of the old car. My carpets have been cleaned. I'm in a different place.

And then there's my new writing buddy.