Sunday, June 16, 2019

Only You, Now

Violence is only a treatment for symptoms, never a cure. Living is the goal. Always it's said, "The ends justify the means," especially if the means aren't just.

Different people will come up with as many excuses. In every story, there is a reason for violence. Other than the truth, the person who threatens the lie is at the greatest risk. Ignorance is never excusable.

Looking at every angle, you'll find a path to a resolution. Never let them convince you otherwise. Giving up is not an option.

Yard Log

Came home to this log in the front yard, Friday evening. There were probably a few exciting moments for those on the highway when this came off the log truck. Glad I wasn't trying to pull in the driveway when it rolled up.





Thursday, June 13, 2019

Drink Full

Don't you hate when you run out of drink before you run out of food? You have to try to find something else to drink, or dryly force the food down. Then, there are other times when there's plenty to drink on the table, and you barely drink a sip until you've finished your food.

This is making me thirsty.

Wednesday, June 12, 2019

To Keep From...

Laughter is the best medicine, they say. I think it's the only thing that keeps the final catastrophe at bay. Don't you think it helps to laugh when faced with the absurdly hopeless? All I can ever do in that situation is laugh.

Take the day off to be home when someone requires you to sign for a delivery they're bringing. Then, they cancel. Twice. What can you do but laugh?

Someone writes down the wrong part number, sends you on a wild goose chase, spending money and time to find it. It arrives and doesn't work. Turns out you had the part they needed the whole time. What can you do but laugh?

I guess you could get angry. You could get all emotional and flip out. What good does that do you?

Laughter is proven to release chemicals that put you in a better mood. Instead of crying, I laugh myself into a frenzy. It probably frightens small animals and children, but I laugh. OH, I laugh real good.

Tuesday, June 11, 2019

Off

Even if you love your job, it's hard to not be in a good mood when you know you don't have to go back the next day. No matter your mood, there's still a level of comfort you can take in knowing the alarm clock means nothing in the morning. Even if there is nothing but work at the house to do the next day, it's still always better. Always.

Monday, June 10, 2019

Fevered Heat

When you've got a fever, it feels like 30° when it's really 100°. Then, suddenly, it feels like 1000°. By then, it's too late to cool down without taking drastic measures. That can be good.

If you'd taken something to break the fever earlier, you mightn't have been able to kill whatever is infecting you. You have to have that heat. If you'd done it earlier, you might've made it worse.

When it passes, everything seems more real again. The fevered delusions had your vision a little blurred. Everything is new, again.

Sunday, June 09, 2019

Making Points

You can be engaged with the Socratic method, yet never willingly see your fallacy. Cordiality regresses into confrontation. Conversation quickens and raised voices begin to alarm some rudimentary instinct.

Blood pressures rise.

Too much is invested in what you believe. Too much time, too much money, too much sacrifice to admit it was all in vain. So, just pile some more wasted time, money and sacrifice on top of it and burn it all, right?

You're too cool for all that, though. You'll never be bested, even when you're wrong. Use their true passion against them.

Maybe you had true passion, once; now, it's all used up in your vanity. Not typical vanity, but a self-righteous imagination. Stay sane, you'll win.

The win, though, is all superficial. Your ID knows you lost. Subconsciously, you're losing.

You're losing more than arguments.

You're moving back from an impressionist system. Some sort of truth is coming together. A picture is forming. You know your constellations are gone, forever.

Saturday, June 08, 2019

White Dot

Entertainment has devolved into a caricature of some weird, dystopian fantasy world created in the mind of a mentally damaged, delusional child. Sometimes I enjoy it. Most of the time I don't, though.

Does that mean I'm getting old? Does it mean something is wrong with the world? The easy answer is that I'm old.

Another answer could be that all of the forms of media we have are finally running out of things to say. Like a twist on the Infinite Monkey Theorem, we've slapped all the keys and made all of the finite, intelligible combinations. All that's left are the unintelligible ones.

Or maybe something is wrong. "OKAY, Dad..." Quiet, now.