Skip to main content

A wise woman once said

Be careful of guys who make frequent use of ellipsis....

How can a form of punctuation be so maddening?

All it is is a series of dots that usually indicate an intentional omission of a word, sentence or whole section from the original text being quoted.

But it is genius that this series of dots, so unassuming by its very nature, can be wielded with much finesse by a cad. The danger is when it is used to indicate an unfinished thought or a trailing off into silence(Oh, the possibilities!)When placed at the beginning or end of a sentence, the ellipsis can also inspire a feeling of melancholy or longing(sigh!)


And to someone with an overactive imagination and high sense of drama, this opens up a world of trouble. 


Personally I have a love/hate relationship with ellipsis, it can be wielded to good effect, because it can be so emotionally loaded by it's very use.


But in the hands of a commitment-phobe, it is a license to weave in and out of other people's lives.





This is where the problem normally sets in:



THE END is never really THE END, the door is left wide open on purpose!(For the Return of the Mack?)

e.g.  The End... (see how confusing this is?)THE END?


Let's bring back the good old full stop in these situations.

Let the END be the END.(Full stop: Finished. Done.Klaargelag)


Open endings are infuriating; it leaves us with question marks hovering over our lives.

And that's not on.


END OF STORY.





Popular posts from this blog

Right here, Right now.

The wind whistles & howls, shaking up Cape Town ; waking her weary chidren.

Dazed I wake up for a second time, opening heavy lids to find that Monday had dawned softly. Ribbons of red are slowly beginning to caress the darkness as I stretch out lazy like a cat, lying in the middle of the kingsize bed, my thick winter frame engulfed by fleecy bedding the colour of candy floss.
"Sweet!" I utter out loud to an already empty house as soft light filters in through aluminium blinds making stripes like tattoos on my pale skin.
I should get up, but I am perplexed by the day which stretches ahead of me demanding nothing!
I'm at odds, not used to so much time on my hands, "busy" being my usual setting.

I'm beginning to like this new reality.
The ticking clock by my bedside sets a steady rhythm, as all around me the world is on the go, moving in circles. It's as if the world's forgotten about this one, tiny space. In my cocoon I groggily sit up, twisting m…

Storylines

Furrows deep and pronounced line my brow. I contemplate them,  willing them away, stroking them gently, each stroke meant to iron them out. I am their canvas, they are my storylines.

I seize my ironing, and listen to their tales.
I feel the cold to my bones!

Not the usual Cape Town cold I grew up with in the Southern Suburbs, but an iciness matching any day spent in Tewkesbury more than a decade ago in the UK.  The kind of cold that requires down feather jackets and knee-high fake fur boots.  The kind of cold that leaves sleet on windshields, and soup pots full.
Central heating!Pah! Our homes in Cape Town are ill-equipped for this kinda torture!
I hug my hot water bottle to me like a long lost lover, it's squishy, and pot-bellied and jiggles when I squeeze it. Raising the white mug to my lips, I slurp the almost scalding coffee quickly. My fifth cuppa and it's only 10:42am. Two bars glow bright orange at me. Mikey hogs the heater, and Georgie sits on top of the TV cabinet like a …

Jack of All

My professional life is marred by the ordinary.
By the humdrum thank you ma'am.

It remains puzzling, even in my semi-retirement phase.
I am not someone with an aversion to "success" or money.
I was raised to have a strong work ethic and I tend to show up, and I’m 100% tied-in to my endeavors. I've been at the receiving end of accolades and positive performance appraisals,  and I have over time broadened my scope of learning and my skillset, and I have tried to keep up with the times and technology.

Still...
Always in circles.
Round  & round.
Forward; then back to square 1.
Everywhere, but up.
Lateral moves and Plan B’s.

Hmmm…
Maybe I am a dreamer?
Maybe it’s because I’m the youngest sibling, the other one?
It could be because I’m fickle?
Or easily bored?
Or difficult?
Too demanding? Not demanding enough?
Too nice? Not ruthless in the least.

Yikes, maybe I think too much?
Maybe I should think some more!
Or deeper?
I could go back and make like Freud and delve into…