shells.

what is it, exactly, that makes shells so lovely? so intriguing? what is it that makes us want to pick them up and look at them and take them home?

I know that for me, some of it is the math. Like the nautilus, for example. Or the amazing concept of the thousands and thousands of different types of shells, how each nook and cranny serves a purpose. Why do some have two parts to the shell? Why do some leave their shell? Why is their shell that shape?

Sometimes I find that things in nature provide me with assurance that God does exist. (I'm of the belief that perhaps we're all worshipping the same God in different ways, and perhaps the message got muddied in the process, by the by. So a higher power, if you will. I happen to believe it's God, and the rest is an admission of the possibility, not the certainty. But I digress. Anyhoo.) So, these tiny features of the creatures, much like the patterns of our fingers or the colors of our eyes, are so fascinating. What other than a Creator could have put such love and attention into the details. I find it hard to believe that amino acids all by themselves would have come up with the unique aspects of each person. I think they need a shove in the right direction, personally. Anyhoo.

But I realized something else that drew me to the shells. You could see their history right there--as plain as day--or at least the results of it. They wear their hearts on their sleeves, as it were. So maybe you can tell what's happened to it, and how strong it might be, and where it's fragile, and where it's been, too.

I know there was a time in my life where I got upset almost any time someone talked about their father. I even made my chapter change a tshirt--it was going to say "we'll always be our daddy's little girl," but I insisted it say something else, and it became "we'll always be your little girl" or something. Anyway, that's a time it would have been nice to be able to have a shell--to some how show that this was a fragile topic.

I also wish I could explain to others that I'm late. All. The. Time. But I started writing about this, and it turned into a tirade. Perhaps this will get a post all its own.

And now, sometimes I find myself wishing that I could show others that I am strong, not weak. I'm tired of people doubting. But I get frustrated by people who don't realize that I'm sensitive, too. That, and I friggin want people to realize I'm intelligent without expecting me to be able to tell the future and/or figure out their last five years of work in thirty seconds. It's an odd combo. If Misha were reading this I could tell her that I was a "purple," and she'd get it. But maybe a shell would show people that too.

I'm sure that at some point every person has wished for some type of a shell, even if they don't realize it--telling others you're funny or brilliant or talented or even that you're lazy and you don't care so leave you the eff alone. :) Made me envy those shells a little. They were a testament of a trait or something, proclaiming its truth, in a way. Of course, it's important to realize that they're just the outside, not the inside, and that on the beach there weren't any living creatures inside. But at some point an animal did wear/use/live in that shell, and its experiences manifested themselves on the exterior.

I guess it isn't always wrong to read a book by its cover. It just depends on how descriptive the cover is.