The test of literature is, I suppose, whether we ourselves live more intensely for the reading of it...

This entry begins with a secret, albeit not one of mine. I'm an avid reader of Postsecret, both the blog and the books (all of which I own). If you've never visited the site I highly suggest you take a look. To summarize, a man named Frank Warren came up with an idea for a community art project that involved leaving blank post cards for people to find and inviting them to create an artistic representation of a secret they had. They would then mail the secret to his home in Maryland. Eventually Frank got back all the postcards he'd given out - but more kept coming in. From here Frank created the blog which he updates weekly with new secrets. He's put together several collections in book form and visits colleges around the country. PostSecret is a site that draws attention to the things that connect us as human beings - and some of them are quite weird. The emotions and thoughts most of us would deny would we have to put our names on them come out on this website. It makes us realize we're not alone, while at the same time celebrating the oddness and idiosyncrasies that make the human race unique and lovable. It also shows us at our worst - but makes us realize we can be forgiven. And it forces readers to take a walk in someone else's shoes.

But I digress. As I mentioned earlier, I own all of the books currently in publication (another collections is currently being prepared for release). A developing trend with the release of each new book is the tendency for readers to leave their own secrets in various volumes at their local bookstores for other fans to discover. Many of these are sent in to Postsecret by those who find them. I was lucky enough to find a book with TWO secrets in it. One I seem to have lost, unfortunately. It said: "My fiancee and I met on Youtube. "Samson" by Regina Spektor brought us together. I have never loved music more." It was a lovely secret (and one of my favorite Regina Spektor songs) and I'm still upset that I lost it.
Here is the second one. For those who have trouble reading the worlds, here is the transcription:

"I hope you come back here and look for the secret you left that I found. I'd much rather you have panic attacks than you dying. I love you, whoever you are. Thank you for stopping by again."

There are many things I love about this find. First, that when someone found a secret - whether they found it inadvertently, or were looking for it, or perhaps even it was the person leaving their own secret about Regina Spektor - they took it with them. The secret was meant for someone to find, and although this person may not have been looking they decided to carry this secret for a stranger. Not only that, they were inspired to such compassion for someone they do not know, and will likely never meet, that they felt compelled to respond and respond with unconditional love. Of course, it's easier to have unconditional love for the idea of a person than it is for someone you have to meet, learn to understand, and interact with in the course of your own daily life and troubles. But it's still and admirable sentiment, and I think we'd all like to believe that when called upon to be our noblest selves that we wouldn't let ourselves, or anyone else, down.

Even more so, I enjoy the words the writer chose to emphasize. Instead of saying that s/he loved "whoever you are" (implying that the person s/he was addressing was loved regardless of the kind of person they were), this person instead emphasizes are. To me it's as if the writer is saying that s/he loves this person because they are. Somewhere the original secret writerexists. S/he is a human being, and thus worthy of love and care. The emphasis at the end, on "again" expresses a confidence that the original writer will not give up, but come back in search of a solution.

Although I kept the secret I sent the text to Frank, who posted it on the main page at postsecret.com. I hope both the writer of the original secret and the writer of the one I found both saw it. One, so that they may receive the kindness someone intended for them, and the other to know that they're gesture did not go unnoticed.

And now a few short ones to round off the post:


I'm not sure how this ended up in a book all these years later, but this is apparently I phone bill from 1968. What I would give to have this resemble my current phone bill...at any rate, other than the sheer delight at finding something so random (not to mention old), I take some pleasure in finding many of the places on this bill are places I've been. Parish, New York is a little piece of nowhere relatively near where I grew up. My grandparents own property in Parish, and some people vaguely related to me still live out there. Rochester, NY is where I went to college. I also like the bit of mystery surrounding the Mass call outlined in pencil. Was it an incorrect charge? Was someone in the household suspicious about who was calling who? Did they catch whoever it was redhanded? It's sensationalistic, I admit, but I can't help my imagination.

Transcription:

Upper lefthand corner: Lea 13

Center: *can we not achieve a symbol or word w/o buying into a theory of representation?

This looks like a flashcard or study aid, although I can't imagine why it would then say "Lea 13" in the top corner, unless Lea likes to write her name and age on all of her notes. This one could invite endless speculation so I won't even start to here. Although, just to throw my two cents in on the specific question, no I don't think it's possible.