Thursday, October 27, 2011

An Alley Way in Fremont and Two Incidents of Mind Reading

While in Fremont I took an alley way as a short cut from one place to another. Who knew it would provide such an abundant amount of subject matter from photographs! Including these two humping dogs. Ha!

The other day while walking outside I was thinking! Yes, I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it. I sound like a character from a chick lit novel about a girl obsessed with shoes and shopping. I was thinking about how I want to buy a pair of high heels because I don't own a pair. Women really do look classy when they wear heels and they make such a satisfying clicking sound. I can wear them to the next wedding I attend. (Lately I've been going to quite a few weddings, but I'm not complaining. I love going to weddings!) The only problem is what about the dancing? Dancing is integral part of weddings, and I can hardly walk in high heels let alone dance. Maybe I should bring another pair of more reasonable shoes to change into when the dancing starts. It would be funny if some one brought a pair of sneakers to change into for the dancing. Although practical, it would be completely incongruous with a wedding atmosphere. Just as I was thinking all these shoe filled thoughts, a man walked by me and said "Nice Shoes!" Weird! It was like he knew I was thinking about shoes. It was especially strange because the shoes I was wearing were an ordinary pair of blue rubber boots. I like them, but they are not snazzy and hardly worth comment. Also, the man did not look like a shoe enthusiast. He was a fifty to sixty year old man wearing plain clothes and shoes.
Today, I had another incident of mind reading. While at a marina, I spied an elderly gentlemen relaxing on his boat. It was not a huge motor yacht, but a modest sized boat and slightly worn down. In his lap he had a large bag of potato chips that he was merrily crunching. His eyes were closed and the sunshine was warming his face. He was sitting toward the direction the wind was blowing so he could enjoy the light breeze though his hair. The man looked so content with just the simple act of enjoying chips on his boat on a sunny day. I thought to myself that there was something beautiful about the man or the scene. The moment after I thought this, the man looked my way and smiled at me. It was like he had read my mind too!
Of course I do not really believe either of these men read my mind, but it did give me a good idea for a movie plot! A woman comes from a family with a long line of people with latent magical abilities. Each family member gets a different ability, so it is like a genetic grab bag of magic. The abilities do not manifest themselves until the person turns thirty. Centuries ago, the family was very proud of their magic, but the turning tide of social norms eventually made the family feel ashamed. The social stigma of being 'different' or 'odd' compelled the family to keep their abilities secret. They did not even tell their children that on the morning of their thirtieth birthday, they would wake up irreversibly altered by magic.
So the woman had no idea she would some day be the possessor of a magical power. Her parents encouraged her to live an ordinary life. But despite this, the woman was still drawn toward a life far from ordinary. She became a top secret spy. The government entrusted her with the most sensitive and secretive missions, because she was a quite talented at being a spy. That is until her thirtieth birthday.
Her talent is not that of a mind reader, but of an anti mind reader or a mind book. Everyone around her can read her thoughts! This would be both embarrassing and uncomfortable for an ordinary person, but it is the sort of thing that can be fatal if you are the possessor of top secret information. The woman is confused about what is going on and the government is suspicious. Trouble ensues! It is the type of story that can be a straight forward thriller or a comedy. It can also be a social commentary on wikileaks or the freedom on information in the age of internet.

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