About Goodness

I'm getting sort of tired of not knowing what I'm doing with my life. It's still better than the past, when I knew what I was doing and I also knew that it sucked. But it's really uncomfortable feeling so uncertain all the time. This would probably be the perfect time for some Buddhist wisdom, something about how everything is uncertain, and when we can accept that we will gain true peace. Those Buddhists have got it pretty dead on, I think. I just don't know if I can live up to their standards. I don't really think I'm that good (and before you say it, yeah, i know that it's not about being good, it's about the struggle, etc., but that's not how it feels). In the grand scheme of things, along the goodness spectrum I'm probably somewhere in the middle, although I'd like to think maybe high-middle. Upper-middle goodness, that's what I strive for. I don't want to have unrealistic expectations for myself. I don't think that kind of disappointment would be good for my self-esteem. I'd probably start acting out or something.

Song Of The Day

I don't know if this happens to anyone else, but every morning I wake up with a song in my head. Every morning. I don't just wake up and start thinking of it. It actually seems to start before I wake up, so that by the time I am conscious of it, I know that it has actually been playing in my mind for quite a while. I don't know where the songs come from, and they range from Sam Cooke to Ween to Van Halen to Dylan to The Roots. Sometimes songs that I haven't heard since junior-high dances (Van Halen being the prime example).

This morning, the song of the day: "New Slang" by The Shins
At least it's a decent song to wake up to. You have no idea the impact that hearing someone like Van Halen in your brain first thing in the morning will have on your entire day. It probably causes permanent damage. Come to think of it, that may explain an awful lot.

Keep Off The Grass!

Okay, so yesterday I got chastised (well, I got a dirty look, anyway) for walking on the grass, instead of choosing one of the myriad paved paths that crisscross the campus, trying to predict any possible path one might be interested in taking. Well, there wasn't a path that anticipated my needs, so being the adventurous soul that I am I struck out on my own. I was pulled up short by a disapproving look from a passerby indicating that I should keep off the grass. I kept going anyway, but what is up with that?
Oh, yes, by all means, save the grass - it is endangered, isn't it? Since when did grass become so prized that we are only allowed to look, not touch, like it's a piece of art? It's GRASS. How did it gain status over all the other plants that seek to populate our lawns? Is it prettier? Not really. Easier to maintain? Not hardly and if you doubt me go to any suburban neighborhood on an Saturday afternoon and witness the extensive landscape maintenance taking place.
Okay, so if that's not it, what is the redeeming feature of grass? Well, it's nice to walk on in your bare feet, that I cannot dispute. Too bad that is frowned upon. Moreover, if you do choose to rebel and walk on it, you definitely cannot do so barefoot! If you did, with the chemicals used to maintain said lovely-to-walk-on-grass, your children would have three heads.

Regarding the Muppets - Just as I suspected...

It's finally been confirmed. In the body of a (relatively) young woman, I am actually a little old man (either one of the pair, though I've always felt more akin to the short fat one), made of felt and fluff, who feels equal parts contempt and love for the whole ridiculous performance being laid out before him (her). The funniest part of which may be that I took the quiz twice, trying to purposely skew the results the 2nd time, yet doomed to receive the same results. I may as well face facts - I was born to curmudgeonhood.

You are Statler or Waldorf.
You have a high opinion of yourself, as do others.
But only because you are in the balcony seats.

ALSO KNOWN AS:
Those two old guys in the box.
SPECIAL TALENTS:
Heckling, complaining, being cantankerous

QUOTE:
"Get off the stage, you bum!"

LAST BOOKS READ:
"The Art of Insult" and "How To
Insult Art"

NEVER LEAVE HOME WITHOUT:
Their pacemakers.


What Muppet are you?
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Permanent Autumn

If I could live in permanent autumn, I would. I love the satisfying crunch of frosty grass, blades snapping under your feet. The air even feels cleaner in the fall, crisp and cold down my throat, in my nose. During the fall my senses seem heightened, like superhero powers - Autumn Girl! No, I refuse to have sidekick status - Autumn Woman! And my powers are... I can ward off all thought of adult responsibility merely by kicking through (and occasionally in desperate circumstances, jumping in) dead leaves, skulking through white morning fog, crunching over frozen, still-green grass. You can tell my powers have been activated when my cheeks and nose turn slightly pink and my breath comes out in misty white puffs of air. Then, boy, you better watch out. You are about to get a serious lesson in the shirking of duties in favor of childhood pastimes and long aimless walks. I excel at shirking duties - you might say it's my raison d'etre.

On Paranoia

Remember, just because you're paranoid doesn't mean they're not watching you.

It occurs to me that maybe I have evolved specifically for this type of communication. It's all there - social ineptitude, an absolute abhorrence for the telephone, and the fact that no one will write me letters anymore. I can send them out, but the only person who writes back to me is my man's grandmother. This may be my last route of communication. And I don't even have to address it to anybody. Or wonder if they've gotten it. And wonder what it means when they don't respond for a week, a month, or ever.
And of course, I would like to think that this is evolution, not devolution. Hence my conclusion that, in fact, I am a being that has evolved specifically to face the communication challenges of this era. It also occurs to me that after reading this, you will know that I am completely full of horse-puckey. Carry this knowledge with you as you continue reading (or more likely, don't).
Also, there is the fact that I can say whatever I want without having to choose who I will say it to. Whew! That's a load off my mind.

huh? whazza? how do you work this darn thing, anyway? when i was a kid you never would've seen this kind of behavior - kids typing away all day, locked up in their rooms with little screens and little keys. in my day, things were different (read: better).