So my husband decided to start writing again. He started writing "a Million Words" which literally means he is attempting to write one million words. To support him I will be posting 5 paragraphs from "a Million Words" at a time. My husband came up with a time frame for when this will be done and by the rate that he is going and the limited time available to him each day, this could take 3 years! Since he started this piece I cannot stop reading. Each day I wait patiently for my hubby to sit down and start typing. The way he perceives life is incredible and so interesting. I hope everyone finds this read as interesting and captivating as I do!
Part 1
If you had to use a million words, what would you say, what would you write. A Million words. If I was female, it might not be as hard. Scientists have proven that woman talk as much as 3 times more than any man, except maybe lawyers and politicians. But then again, they would come up with extraordinary reasons and absurd explanations of why they would not or should not, or that the purpose defies the odds. A million words. Does it count if I use the same words, like in primary school you would have had to write a sentence on the black board or in some homework book, “I shall not give my homework to the dog” or “I shall not cheat on a test” and maybe even “I shall never call Amy fat ever again”. A hundred times or more.
If you had the ability to use a million words, and none of them were to be repeated, each word used only once, would you be able to recite and understand each word, verbatim, found in an encyclopedia? And in such a case, why would you use these words? Other than to prove the pretentiousness dragging behind of the laborious translations to the layman’s…. If you were to receive the monetary equivalent for the use of such words, how rich would you be?
A million words. Where do I begin..
Conception seems to be the appropriate time in the never ending line of time. This is where everything starts, and time is continuous, is it not? And somewhere on this never-ending timeline, a dot, literally a dot, represents you. This is where your’ time begins. A split second is the only difference between you being you, and someone else taking your place. Have you ever thought of how exceptional you had to have been? Bigger, better, faster, stronger.
What happens before the race? You were basically swimming around, mindless, autonomous, in a state of trance. The two adults on the other hand, o boy. What a rush. But we’ll get there soon enough. Another 16 or so odd years from now, depending on location, culture and what the others perceive as appropriate, and if you were brought up by parents like mine, then you’ve still got another five or six years down the line. A million words might be able to describe this event. Suddenly you and all your fellow swimmers get squeezed down this tube, forced down into the abyss. And for the first time, you sense something. Something you can’t explain, something new, something that can only be described as instinct.
You and your unfertilized destinations are full of tiny microscopic cells, each encoded with strands of DNA. This DNA is made up of all kinds of information. They will determine whether you’re going to be a six foot four, green eyed, ginger chick magnet by the age of eighteen, or whether you’ll end up a short, fat and bald man by the age of 40. Hitler believed that he could build the perfect army by fiddling with the DNA, creating men that were all taller than 6 feet, all blond and blue eyed. Hard to think he was saved from drowning by a priest at the age of 5. Imagine the disbelief in the priests’ mind; he could have prevented the holocaust.
