Closure. It's important to a lot of people. After all, how can we know things are done being things that aren't done if they haven't told us that they're done yet? It's a simple philosophy that governs humanity's approach to storytelling and baking. But what happens when something doesn't tell you it's done being a thing you're pretty sure is done as well as you would like it to it to tell you it's done? In other words, how are we supposed to react to the cakes in our ovens turning out burned or, dare we consider, not even cakes at all?

Most things have endings. And all things that have endings have beginnings. Well not circles. They don't really have either. Or do they have an infinite amount of both? Wait, how do circles work? I feel like that's something they told us in kindergarten that I have since forgotten. Now I'm wondering if I ever even got past my ending of the beginning grade. Did I fail kindergarten?


I guess we'll never know. What matters is that we sort out this whole ending and closure thing. It's crucial that every part of our lives works out so that there is a clear and easily identified ending. I mean, we all die. That's an end, right? But then more people are born. So is that less endings? Crap. Is life like a circle? Did they mention that in kindergarten, too?

Nailed it

I need to get us back on track (like the one pictured above). When we don't get our much needed dose of being told something is done being a thing that wasn't done just a minute ago but is done now sort of, we are certain to lose focus on what's even more important than the ending of the end: the beginning of the end. Or maybe it's the end of the beginning. I'm not sure, but I know it's the begending. I feel like I should use my baking analogy again to really back this up, but I'm not going to because you can just go back to the first paragraph and read it. You'll totally get the same effect. Trust me. Did you go back and read it? It was good, right?

Where was I. Talked about baking. Endings. We covered beginnings. Right! Begendings. Begendings are what truly matter. Those moments right after the ending of a really long beginning that shows us where the ending was going throughout the entire middle. When something doesn't deliver the utmost ending it can, it robs you of your begending. And the next beginning. Which is also a begending.

I think what I'm really driving home here is that endings are stupid. They make you stop thinking about the thing that it was ending and leave you with absolutely no beginning to start working on your new ending. Then endings make you think about the things it begended as well, and thinking is a disease like leprosy, becoming a mime, or eating whole wheat.

Oh hey, I just got an idea. Remember when I was talking about circles or something? That reminded me of sharks and how they can't stop going forward or they'll die. Wait, that's like the opposite of a circle, isn't it? I mean, sharks don't really have a beginning. No, that's not right. Sharks don't have an end. Hold on, they don't have either. So that means they're like circles. No, sharks are circles.

Ignore that last shark thing. Go back and read the baking thing again in the first paragraph. Felt good, right? Okay, let's finish this up.

So endings are bad because they make you think about your begending and sometimes they don't give you enough things to think about your begending so your begending isn't really a begending at all and more like a shark that ate a circle and has leprosy.

Whoa. Not to toot my own horn, but *toot* *toot*

Nailed it.