My Tender Lumplings, my world has been shaken. My very sense of reality is in a state of flux. Everything I have ever know, my beliefs and faiths, my hopes and fears, have been ripped from me and twisted into something new and foreign and ugly. Though I am managing to hold on for the moment I don't know how much longer this facade of normalcy will hold.
What has caused this you ask? How could anything shake me, your humble narrator, who has shown nothing though all these years but a seemingly rock steady foundation of character. What could possibly reduce this lighthouse of perception, who's beam of truthful light illuminates the way for wisdom seekers through the rocky shores of deception that the world has laid in their paths. Well, a ship of unsought knowledge has escaped my beam and crashed itself upon my reef.
There was a discussion at work yesterday about astrology. I've never really bought into it much though I admit that I think people born under certain signs can, and do, have similar traits. Not that a Gemini can't have the traits of, say, a Libra. But I understand a lot of what they are saying. Sort of the same with any ancient beliefs, I think they have some good bit and some bits that are just crazy shit. I guess what I'm saying is that I may not buy everything they believe in but I respect the old ways enough not to just write it all off as crap. I mean, the great pyramids are laid out in the form of constellation, they are. And Stonehenge is aligned with the stars. So the ancient peoples believed there was something there. Aliens? Who knows. But back to astrology and birth signs. I learned, or rather, realized through our talk at work a rather disturbing fact. I have know for a long time that my birth sign is Taurus. And Chinese restaurant place mats have been telling me for years that based on the year of my birth my sign is the Rooster.
So, does this mean my entire life has been one long Cock and Bull story?
Have I just been some outlandishly over-exaggerated tale? Is the story of my life the living equivalent of a extravagant fabrication? Not a lie, per se, but a highly embellished form of the truth? I am seriously concerned here. If I am really just the protagonist (or, horror, a bit player?) in someones elaborate fiction, then what is it all for? Do the stars control me? Am I not that master of my own will? My own destiny? Some would say, no, I'm not. These are the people who believe in destiny and fate and all that crap. How THOSE people can even get out of bed in the morning is a mystery to me.
Of course I'm not controlled by the stars or aliens or God or anything else. Do I believe there is a energy, a power, bigger than us all that runs through the fabric of reality and binds us all? The Force, so to speak? Yes, but it can't make you fly or have mind powers, and it doesn't control you. My dearies, we have to make our own fate. We decide our own path and if it is the wrong one, well, we deal with that when it happens. Until next time...
Friday, July 26, 2013
Thursday, July 25, 2013
The Four Eyed Couch Potato: or the joys of being a middle aged slacker.
As I was walking down the hall at work today there were two guys standing having a conversation. As I passed them, I didn't say a thing not wanting to interrupt, one of them pointed at me and said to the other guy "that fella ain't right". What? Now, I know both of these guys and they know me pretty well, so it doesn't surprise me that they would say something. And I'm not really disputing the claim. It's just that it was unexpected and sort of out of no where. All I had done was walk by, staring at the one guy (the speaker) with my creepiest wide-eyed unblinking stalker gaze. What's wrong with that?
But he was right. I, your humble narrator, am not right. Not at all, Dearies. I would say that about 8 out of 10 times, that is about four fifths of the time, I am not doing anything that is at all right. Probably as much at 82.7% of the time whatever I happen to be doing is something that no good can come from. That isn't to say that I am actively pursuing some endeavor that is in some way criminal or morally reprehensible. It may well be that through my inaction I am not doing good simply by not doing anything at all.
Why am I like this? I don't know. I'm not especially lazy. In fact, being "not right" is very hard sometimes. It takes a lot of time and effort to pull off wrongness. It's sort of the same thing as when Dolly Parton said "it takes a lot of money to look this cheap" when talking about her wardrobe. If I refocused this effort on doing good deeds and achieving personal and professional goals, I could be president or something. Wouldn't that be a hoot, me in the oval office. Things would be a little different around here.
Of course this means that 17.2% of the time I am being responsible and doing honest productive things. But in the grand scheme of things that is not much time at all. What is that, about 4 hours a day? About half the time I spend at work? Or am I splitting it up like two hours a day or working at work and another two doing things I need to do at home? Either way it ends up being that I spend much more time on my screwing around and being goofy activities than I do on anything else. And I'm really fine with that. Because, at the end of the day, I have fun.
So, no, I ain't right. But I'm not always wrong. But I am happy.
Until next time my Tender Lumplings...
But he was right. I, your humble narrator, am not right. Not at all, Dearies. I would say that about 8 out of 10 times, that is about four fifths of the time, I am not doing anything that is at all right. Probably as much at 82.7% of the time whatever I happen to be doing is something that no good can come from. That isn't to say that I am actively pursuing some endeavor that is in some way criminal or morally reprehensible. It may well be that through my inaction I am not doing good simply by not doing anything at all.
Why am I like this? I don't know. I'm not especially lazy. In fact, being "not right" is very hard sometimes. It takes a lot of time and effort to pull off wrongness. It's sort of the same thing as when Dolly Parton said "it takes a lot of money to look this cheap" when talking about her wardrobe. If I refocused this effort on doing good deeds and achieving personal and professional goals, I could be president or something. Wouldn't that be a hoot, me in the oval office. Things would be a little different around here.
Of course this means that 17.2% of the time I am being responsible and doing honest productive things. But in the grand scheme of things that is not much time at all. What is that, about 4 hours a day? About half the time I spend at work? Or am I splitting it up like two hours a day or working at work and another two doing things I need to do at home? Either way it ends up being that I spend much more time on my screwing around and being goofy activities than I do on anything else. And I'm really fine with that. Because, at the end of the day, I have fun.
So, no, I ain't right. But I'm not always wrong. But I am happy.
Until next time my Tender Lumplings...
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Insanity For Fun and Profit
I have been having a problem lately, my Tender Lumplings. I had an idea for a really good blog entry about a week ago and I didn't get the chance to write it. Nature and life conspired to blog block me at every chance and I just couldn't get it done. And now, of course, I can't remember what it was about. I'm sure it will return to me, I hope it does, I think you would have enjoyed it but for now I will have to deal with other topics.
So what shall we discuss today then, hmmm? How about the human brain. That dense mass of gooey gray matter that, arguably, makes up our entire selves. Nothing happens anywhere except in our brains. We believe we see things miles away. We believe we smell things. We believe we can hear train whistles blow from around the bend of the tracks. But do we? Really? All those things are just a flash of an electrical synapse in the depths of our brain. We only know what our brain tells us. We cannot have any other source of information. We don't see or feel or hear anything really. Our brain just tells us we do and we believe it.
But what if you brain starts lying to you?
I've been reading a book about psychopaths. No, it is not just a big book of stories about serial killers. ( I have read that book though and it is pretty good. You all know of my fascination with that subject. But now having read about what some psychopaths have done I want to read about why they did it.) This book looks at the way a psychopath's brain works and shows that being a psychopath, or having certain psychopathic traits, is not always a bad thing. Few psychopaths become violent and in some areas being a ruthless, self serving, cold hearted and charismatic person is an absolute boon. Think of the world of business, the stock market, the military and politics. There is no place for emotion in those worlds.
The good news is that from what I've read I can say with certainty that I am not a psychopath. But I do have a few of their traits. But after thinking about it for I while I have decided that I only exhibit those traits for my own amusement. I am now officially announcing that I am a Recreational Psychopath. Because I actually have emotions and feel things I can never be a true psychopath, but I can pretend. I can lie, manipulate, appear to show no empathy or sympathy at all and be a complete narcissistic bastard but all for my own amusement. And it is that pleasure I take from my bad behavior that proves I'm not a psychopath. Stupid emotions ruin everything.
This all goes against my hindu training. It's all about compassion and selflessness. That's great and all but sometimes, my Dearies, you have to have a little fun. Until next time...
So what shall we discuss today then, hmmm? How about the human brain. That dense mass of gooey gray matter that, arguably, makes up our entire selves. Nothing happens anywhere except in our brains. We believe we see things miles away. We believe we smell things. We believe we can hear train whistles blow from around the bend of the tracks. But do we? Really? All those things are just a flash of an electrical synapse in the depths of our brain. We only know what our brain tells us. We cannot have any other source of information. We don't see or feel or hear anything really. Our brain just tells us we do and we believe it.
But what if you brain starts lying to you?
I've been reading a book about psychopaths. No, it is not just a big book of stories about serial killers. ( I have read that book though and it is pretty good. You all know of my fascination with that subject. But now having read about what some psychopaths have done I want to read about why they did it.) This book looks at the way a psychopath's brain works and shows that being a psychopath, or having certain psychopathic traits, is not always a bad thing. Few psychopaths become violent and in some areas being a ruthless, self serving, cold hearted and charismatic person is an absolute boon. Think of the world of business, the stock market, the military and politics. There is no place for emotion in those worlds.
The good news is that from what I've read I can say with certainty that I am not a psychopath. But I do have a few of their traits. But after thinking about it for I while I have decided that I only exhibit those traits for my own amusement. I am now officially announcing that I am a Recreational Psychopath. Because I actually have emotions and feel things I can never be a true psychopath, but I can pretend. I can lie, manipulate, appear to show no empathy or sympathy at all and be a complete narcissistic bastard but all for my own amusement. And it is that pleasure I take from my bad behavior that proves I'm not a psychopath. Stupid emotions ruin everything.
This all goes against my hindu training. It's all about compassion and selflessness. That's great and all but sometimes, my Dearies, you have to have a little fun. Until next time...
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