So it goes

Squirrel

A Paragraph in which Sentences Start with "I"

I was amused that the world spun madly on, seemingly ignorant of the time I was spending in New Zealand.  I had an experience beyond the words I wrote in a notebook, and beyond the pictures I took.  I found my place in reality: low, near the bottom, among all of humanity, and completely irrelevant.  I felt content and very much at peace in this realization.  I grew immensely in my own insignificance, and shared it with no one.  For once, I didn't feel the urge to.  I simply existed.

Social Media Made Me Do It.

The idiots that run the US government have reached (a pathetically nearsighted) financial agreement.

Can I now go back to reading posts about cute animals, sports team rivalries, sexist comments from all sides, thoughtless exploits, the rightness of one religion or philosophy over all others, friends who compliment instead of speak their minds, and activists who lash out at the world because like the rest of us, they're both angry and too afraid to change themselves?  Can I go back to the disheartening noise?  Can I go back to ignoring suffering because it's neither fashionable nor palatable?  Well wishers, platform pontificators, copy cats, alliteratively amused, and those who mimic Janus: good luck.

The dichotomy of wanting to be left out of the racket but needing social interaction is obnoxious like the inconvenient reality that torture is used to get intelligence information to avoid more pain than it causes.  You want to stop drilling through his hand, the inconsolably wrenching screams having root in his own choice of association, pressing through vein and bone, but you need to save those poor children.  It's not what you signed up for, but it's where you are.  Perhaps use a larger bit?

In a conceivably related thought:

It has been said that insanity is expecting different results from the same action, but I believe it is also true that expecting different results from the same set of principles is no different.  But, no action is truly repeatable, and so no principle can be applied twice in exactly the same manner, so carry on.

QotD: "The world is not a wish granting factory."  -  The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

HotD: http://xkcd.com/1267/, but the relevance isn't there, only the irony.

I thought of this while reading Facebook today.

There is no mandate that the company of fools be kept, yet there lies guilt in wanting them gone, those whose lives, bent by years of profound self-limiting, revolve around relentless repetition, hoping for light, a break in the vast and enveloping darkness, whilst toiling in circles of their own minds in the same way a cavefish or mushroom grows in a cave, but never leaves.

Quote of the Day:  "None so deaf as those that will not hear. None so blind as those that will not see."  -  Matthew Henry

Corn.

I've been thinking, quite consistently and critically, for over a year now, about the truth of choice.  Volumes have attempted to explain as much, but I've been searching for a distilled product, not a mixed drink.  So, in that vein, not dilated, I will try to supplant quantity with quality.  If you'll indulge in my musings, and understand that the reference point is my own, it may lead to some sobering thoughts.  Or, as you are permitted, choose water over wine, hold the wheel, and drive.

But, surrounded by corn, the start is difficult to find.  I suppose I should make a decision, and see where that leads.  Stay tuned.

Snippets.

I've been thinking about writing.  And, while I do enjoy crafting words to elicit emotions and images, I often don't have a complete enough idea, or the patience to put the entire thing together.  The things I come up with rarely have such personal appeal that I can't put them down until they're perfect pieces.  Or, they are only pieces to a larger puzzle, and I haven't seen enough of the picture yet.  So, they either get jotted down on my phone's notepad, written with a pen and stashed away somewhere, or forgotten.  But, in knowing that not all compositions are peer review articles, novels, or formal pieces, I'll put down the following bit I just came up with while packing for yet another trip.  After all, if there's anything I've learned in the past few years, it's that the best amusement (and indeed, relief to pain and stress) for me is found in the small ironies and details of life that give so much away.  Well, here you go:

Clothes laid unfolded for a month.  A watch that still had the time difference from the Charleston visit a month ago was in the stack.  Paired down to the necessities for the activities I choose, my apartment lacks luxuries.  The only reason I bought two chairs, one of which still remains in the box, is because enough people told me I needed one.  I suppose it's nice to sit down, but it encourages laziness.  What's next, a couch?