The Waffle Cone of Life

ice-cream-690403_640

Due to the demands of life outside of books, I am unable to provide you with a review this week.  Instead, have some dramatic back story*.

It may shock you to hear this, but I went to Catholic school.  Religious Education was a compulsory subject, which I was cool with, because in the later years especially the focus was more on spirituality and comparative religion than anything to do with Jesus.  I had some shocking teachers, but one in particular is another story for another day.  Today, we are to learn about Papa Smurf.

Papa Smurf was a strange guy.  He attempted at all times to exude an air of being a down-to-earth, spiritually connected Jesus-channeller.  Underneath, though, he was a fairly evident seething ball of rage and hate.  I never really figured him out, because this was more than mere Catholic repression, and staggering drunkenly into Tony Abbott territory.  Yes, that variety of barely suppressed seething rage and hate.

Now, apart from taking an intense dislike of one of my classmates, to the extent that he frequently made excuses to send her out of class (she was so devastated.  SO devastated), Papa Smurf taught us a very important lesson that has stuck with me throughout my life.  And it was nothing to do with Jesus, or spirituality†, or even how to suppress my seething rage and hate.‡  No, readers, this lesson was that life is a cone.  It starts small and spreads out into the infinite possibilities of the universe.  Or, even better, ice-cream.

Unfortunately for Papa Smurf, I feel like his life was inverted somehow and had gotten smaller and smaller as he got older.  And one of my major aims in life is to never, ever be like Papa Smurf.  As for why life is a waffle cone in particular — well, that’s simple.  Waffle cones are the most delicious kinds of cones.  I mean there’s an argument for chocolate-dip and sprinkles, but to be honest, that would be too rich and too sweet for me.  Life is a delicious waffle cone.

*Which is not actually dramatic at all.
†I should say here, I am NOT ACTUALLY AN ATHEIST.
‡My trick is not to hold grudges against people I know and to direct all anger against the SYSTEM, man. And also Andrew Bolt.

About Cecilia Quirk

Cecilia Quirk's ultimate goal in life is to become 'Avatar: The Last Airbender's' Uncle Iroh, or as close a proximation as possible for a redhaired white woman. Or Granny Weatherwax. Or hell, both. She enjoys green tea, long walks, manipulating causality and afternoons at home. She lives in the Magical Kingdom of the Roundabouts and works as a wild gnome herder.
Bookmark the permalink.

One Comment

  1. “his life was inverted somehow and had gotten smaller and smaller as he got older”. Gold!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

  • You might also like

    • Not The New Gallipoli

      BIRDSONG Sebastian Faulks (Vintage, 1994, ISBN 0099387913) It might seem a strange choice for a 14-year-old girl, but Sebastian Faulks’ WWI period piece Birdsong was one of my favourite books through high school.  Possibly the first properly ‘adult’ literary novel I ever read, it provoked a deep emotional response and … Continue reading