Enough about me.

Have you reserved a readied judgment of someone who you found irksome in some way too elusive to warrant immediacy of its issuance - someone who may have failed to elicit apparency of the same impression in others? Have you heard tell of this peculiar one's misdeed, and found yourself smug in your intuitive allotment of suspicion? When you learn afterward that the account was false, that the anomaly was exonerated, what might be your reaction? Would you cast into doubt all such judgments?

I habitually chose to become angry at this entirely self-contained assault and rebuff. How dare reality defy my expectations of it, what I had determined it would be?

I strive now to judge nothing, or to realize that all judgment amounts to nothing.

Don't thank me;

thank my country.
Don't thank my country;
thank humanity.
Don't thank humanity;
thank the earth.
Don't thank the earth;
thank evolution.
Don't thank evolution;
thank the sun.
Don't thank the sun;
thank our galaxy.
Don't thank our galaxy;
thank the universe.
Don't thank the universe;
thank dimensionality.
Don't thank dimensionality;
thank nothing for everything.


For starting it all, for ending it all, for providing the flesh of all that lies between.


Don't hate me;
...

Typewriter Journal from Year Unknown (Holy shit, this guy could write.)

[PRE-Typewriter Journal: What the hell has the world come to? I am authoring this post wearing, begrudgingly acknowledging its convenient, cozy warmth, of all things - a Snuggie. What has happened? Only these prerequisites were met: 1) The home in which I reside was constructed with french doors which feature an extreme heat gain and heat loss through each day and night; 2) I stationed my desktop computer near the aforementioned doors; 3) Four Snuggies were shipped, errantly, to me (it remains inexplicable how my name was applied to what was my grandmother's order; it arrived at her home around Christmas time, and was held, unopened, and sent to me). /PRE-Typewriter Journal]


Other than leaving this place a better world for its current and future occupants and/or preparing myself for death, I see no point in my being here. I am deeply curious as to what the best thing for me to do to better this world is. I'm not all too concerned with the answer, though, or seeking it. My first priority is finding my path, and all that includes (namely resisting distraction in whatever form it comes in, as I have allowed my self to be distracted much lately, nearly to a point where all of my recent progress was forgotten). I don't know whether a pure, constant distraction-free life is something that I am capable of leading, though. I'm certain that, if it felt right and I felt whole in doing it, I could; I'm worried that I may not want to, though. I'm sure it will come in time. I can't expect to re-make myself in a day, or a year.

What I have been feeling more and more frequently lately is interesting, and it fills me with hope. I feel what I can only describe as an anticipation of, or the precursor to contentedness. I am calm. I am not so dissatisfied with my life or the prospects for my future, even when taking into account that they may not change all that much. I hope also, but do not worry (my mood does not allow for it; I mean I am unable to worry - for now), that this soothed state is temporary, like the euphoria of my infrequent manic spells. Somehow, I know it isn't, despite the haunting thought that life has taught me differently of such positive things.

I think this is harder to describe because, at least as much as it is a new feeling (or mood or mindset; it is the state of my mind and soul), it is the tangible void of something old and familiar, the absence of something that had a stranglehold on me and constricted tightly around the organ in me that feels happiness and contentment.

Waypoint

Roaming outdoors in the nude is an experience I'd suggest to everyone capable. Just existing, bare, in the midst of all of that space and my quiet neighbors and those beasts busy calling out to their kind, and some greater presence (the nature of which I cannot yet fathom, one that I believe is ever-present though, outside of exceptional experiences, rarely sensed) - just being there allowed me to experience time at a whole new pace, either identical to or, at least, less far removed from that which is natural, relaxing, reassuring.

Note to self: Don't neglect to drop a fantastic post about Mike (directly following the puppy and proposition post).

I believe in the evolution of love, and not its death.

I believe that the utmost expression of faith is to live and act as we feel we should, rather than as we think we should.