LIFE STANDS EXPLAINED | DAVE HARKINS

"When we remember we are mad, the mysteries disappear and life stands explained."

~Mark Twain


Life stands explained. Indeed.

This is the stream of consciousness of Dave Harkins. These are random thoughts and observations about life, culture and the world in general. There may be a few quotes. Likely some art or photography--some mine, some reblogged from another. Occasionally, I may write something. I may push the envelope. You may not like it. Sorry.

Remember, this is a personal, although public, sharing of things that peak my interest or curiosity in some way or another. Think of it as a brief glimpse inside my mind. Consider, though, that each post reflects a snapshot of a moment in time. The meaning, if you must have one, is to be found in an individual post and not in the aggregation of the posts. In other words, don't read anything into what you may encounter here.

Any thoughts or opinions I may choose to express here through my own writing, art or photography, or through the sharing of the writing, art or photography of others are solely my own. What you may read here does not reflect the thoughts, opinions, policies, etc. of any company, organization or individual with whom I may currently work, those I may work with, or those with whom I may otherwise be connected.

If you're not quite ready to learn how the sausage is made, you might want to check out my personal blog at www.itsaprocess.com or my website at www.davidharkins.com

You might find something of value there.

Here, you'll just find randomness.
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EXCERPT:

I woke up to find the hall light off that night, which meant that mom and dad had gone to bed. The house was really dark and quiet. I began to hear the stairs creak as if someone were slowly walking up and trying not to make noise. I broke out in sweat and started yelling for my dad, but nothing came out of my mouth. There was no sound at all. The harder I tried to scream, the more panicked I became; I was certain someone, or something, was coming for me and no one could hear my cries for help.

I’m not sure what happened next. I suspect I had a panic attack and I passed out because I don’t remember anything more from that night. Obviously, whatever was on the stairs, or that my imagination had put on the stairs, did not pull me away into the darkness that night.

My dad never came to my rescue either; he hadn’t heard my silent screams.

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