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About Literature / Hobbyist Paul Mabbitt28/Male/United States Recent Activity
Deviant for 11 Years
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A magnolia tree opened its branches to surround the figure of Steven. The stars overhead flashed mysterious messages down toward the earth, and many lightning bugs echoed them about the hillskirts. The soft wind ruffled the tree's leaves and swept its breezes through Steven's hair. As if on cue, a tiny leaf landed on his nose.
Steven shook his head to dislodge the leaf, but it stuck squarely to his nose. That was odd. He brought his hand to his nose and tried to brush it off, but instead it stuck to his fingers. Slightly puzzled, Steven tried wiping his hand on his pants. The leaf stuck there.
It wasn't until the leaf began multiplying like culture in a dish all over his trousers that Steven realized he was dreaming. Now he was covered with leaves, halfway. He refrained from trying to brush off his pants and remembered there had been a tree. What kind had it been... Magnolia?
Ah, well. The dream was slipping, and gravity had taken hold of him, flipping his consciousness onto his back.
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Crocodile Hearts
You learn.
You live.
You create.
And then the thing you've been trying your entire life so hard to pry open, to force into existence, suddenly breaks forth of its own accord.
It is not better than you.
It is not worse than you.
It is another you, and it becomes you.
Like Crocodile Hearts and A/C Wiring, it directs your energies (all of them) in the opposite directions (all of them).
It was already you.
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Who is Paul David Mabbitt?
Before making any judgments, I will have to ask you to read the entire note. Or you may skip to the bottom. But if you still insist on making prejudiced decisions, I cannot blame you. I am not a perfect person and therefore should not point out imperfections in others. If you do decide to delete me as a friend on Facebook, please do me the courtesy of notifying me when you do.
Since 2001, I have kept a diary. My loving mother gave me the book to write in, and I have poured my heart into it sporadically throughout the years. My mom has expressed over and over that my greatest talent lies in writing. I do not doubt her.
"It's strange that I take for fact the things I remember." - Paul Mabbitt, July 15, 2007.
This quote comes from one of my entries. I think it applies to everyone, since reality is not always what it seems. This is very true, especially concerning my life and me.
As far as I can remember, people have stayed away from me. I never knew why, and nobody cared enough about me t
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The Flower and the Butterfly
The butterfly,
the one who flits, casting its spell wherever it may go.
Spreading its magic powder, never staying still.
The beautiful flower loves the butterfly
and its presence, but not for long.
The flower, rooted down, reaches, but never can follow.
The butterfly, blown about, lingers, but never can stay.
For the butterfly has a purpose.
A purpose so great, it is misunderstood.
A hurricane waiting to happen across the globe.
And the flower who knew, who loves the butterfly,
who knows, who waits, who believes, dies happy.
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Dance of the Heavens
The sun, departing, spreads his light
and shares with clouds and sky his gleam.
Arrays of shades precede the night,
precursor to the moon, 'twould seem.
The last magnificent sun ray
has cast itself upon the sheet
(Which Earth so gladly sheds at day
and dons when he and Sleep 'gain meet).
The blanket o'er the world, when she
receives the final sunbeam dim,
Pulls close to Earth and finally
helps warm him up and comfort him.
The moon, whose shy face seldom shows
full countenance (fear of the sun),
Now cautiously appears, and glows,
for Sol is temporar'ly done.
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Cardboard Boxes
These cardboard boxes,
encasing thoughts and dreams and desires,
some are worn and filled with holes,
others seem borrowed,
more still are incompletely filled...
From one box drift freshly baked apple pies,
another box hosts a trickle of merchant ships.
Many are open as contents appear into them,
dropped, thrown, placed, inserted.
Boxes everywhere, some with names,
others anonymous. All are plain,
except an occasional fruitbowl
flowing with nightingales and satin,
or the barrel streaming forth star dust.
These cardboard boxes,
imitations of the earliest containers,
uniquely combine half-new ideas
but are encased
in the same, plain cardboard boxes.
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Mardi Gras by paulmab Mardi Gras :iconpaulmab:paulmab 0 0
Paul's Personality
Most people who meet Paul have a first impression of wackiness and randomness. He usually comes off as very sanguine, forgetful and lighthearted, spreading cheer and attracting attention. He tends to be feely, holding onto listeners physically as if preventing them from running away.
However, underneath this façade is a much more serious, grave Paul than others care to know. He is constantly thinking, connecting thoughts and memories almost without any runtime. He calculates each possible future scenario and rehearses every possible future conversation. His thought process and reaction time are so miniscule that he comes off as spontaneous. He has a genuine understanding of people and how they think, but he is undecided between being the actor with many admirers or the genius with a few close friends.
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Meaning of Friendship
What is the meaning of friendship? -- an extemporaneous essay by Paul Mabbitt, written in July of 2009.
As I write this note, I take a quick look at my profile and see that I have 831 friends. I look through the lists and pages of people whom I've met, with whom I've hung out, and with whom I've shared multiple memories. Souls about whom I think and care daily, wondering how they are feeling at the moment.
Why am I driven in this way? Why do I love people so much? Why do I feel the need to make sure that everyone I know is satisfied?
When I see someone I know, I search through the databank in my brain, putting together face and name. Almost instantaneously (and because of careful memorization) I come up with a match and greet my comrade as heartily as I am able.
Is my life goal to make friends? Is it to let others know that I have compassion for them? Is that the purpose of my existence?
For me it is an almost automatic process. I seem to connect with anybody, ranging from deep thinker
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Back Home from Church in 3D by paulmab Back Home from Church in 3D :iconpaulmab:paulmab 1 0 3D Me by paulmab 3D Me :iconpaulmab:paulmab 4 6 My Humble 3D Abode by paulmab My Humble 3D Abode :iconpaulmab:paulmab 2 1 Layers by paulmab Layers :iconpaulmab:paulmab 1 1
Or Air or Ground
Thou searchest that which can't be found
till one of these two paths you take.
A hard decision you must make;
resulting in or air or ground.
Whichever choice you make will end
in finding that which you desire.
You must keep strong and never tire,
and always try to help a friend.

He heard the words, yet did not ask
the Seer how she knew such things,
but kept his search up for the rings,
his Mistress Helga's given task.
The badger wound around the cliffs
which Hufflepuff last day had scaled.
But fearing that he'd somehow failed,
sank low, depressed, but then heard sniffs.
To his surprise, in one small cave,
an injured eagle lay face-down.
The badger eyed it with a frown,
then rushed in so it he might save.
He knew a minor healing spell,
and cast it in an uttered breath.
The bird exclaimed, "I'm free from death!
And you have helped me to get well.
"If I could, in return, help you-"
The badger interrupted her.
"'Twas nothing; now I can't deter
from seeking Hufflepuff's rings two."
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In Defense of the Toothpick
Examining a toothpick was
     an action wonderful for you,
     but useless was your one-time view;
a thoughtless dunce what you did does.
A wimp complains of little pain;
     a fool gropes all with fingers rash
     (as when hot oil somewhere does splash,
and careless hands on it are lain).
A heart of steel earns dreadful wage:
     You crushed that toothpick to its end.
     A patient soul it would not mend,
but also would not deal such rage.
Who would that toothpicks all be peeled?
     Most people handle them with care.
     Since proper use prevents the tear,
beware of how much force you wield.
With trying toothpicks, doubts will wane,
     and narrow-mindedness will, too.
     And why? Convenience for you,
but as for us, financial g
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In Regards to the Toothpick
A toothpick I examined once
     and wondered how it came to be.
     A useless toy, it seemed to me,
created by a thoughtless dunce.
I felt the tips (like thorns on rose),
     which sent sharp pain through finger nerves
     (as when hot plates the waiter serves,
and then forgetting hands touch those).
I tested toothpick versus steel,
     and found that one end simply crushed.
     Quite angry then (my face was flushed)
I knew with much it could not deal.
Well, then I pulled on strings of wood
     that lightly came off in my hand.
     The weakling toothpick could not stand
just tiny pressure, though it should.
I fin'ly gave the toy a try
     and stuck the point into a gap
     between my teeth; it then did snap.
I now know what it is.
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paulmab Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Agentwow1 Featured By Owner Jun 18, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
i like your jurnal entrys.

have you ever writen any books?
paulmab Featured By Owner Oct 18, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Why, thanks! :)

I haven't finished any... Lol.
patriciakeiko Featured By Owner Jan 14, 2009
Thank you for the fav :hug:
paulmab Featured By Owner Jan 15, 2009  Hobbyist Writer
Of course! :D
YingFong Featured By Owner Jan 11, 2008  Student General Artist
(: Found you~

(It's Mei.)
paulmab Featured By Owner May 16, 2008  Hobbyist Writer
Mei! I'm back! Hopefully I'll find the time to continue emailing you! I can't check my school email, but I saved the last one from you onto my laptop. I'll answer soon. :D
YingFong Featured By Owner May 16, 2008  Student General Artist
Oh that's right~ Colleges get out so much earlier than high schoolers do. Hope you're doing well and that everything worked out nicely. :)
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