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I’m a very conscious person; almost to a fault, which is to say that I am very observant, pansophic, empathic, and that my mind is very active. I also have a reason for everything that I do, and say. I have learned, early in life, that people, in general—either—tend to assume that most others don’t have reasons for just about anything that they do or say, or people are very actively arbitrary in their hair-trigger re-actions.
My reasons for doing or saying a thing are, more often than not, not at all what you, or most people might expect, when I discovered this stilted obscurity about myself and about people it did come as a bit of a shock to me but, I mean, I am not at all like most people—I have always been aware of that inasmuch as I am aware that, when inquired, most people would respond very similarly—most people like to think that they are also different, anywise—they’re not.
I am accountable for my actions, as well as semi-apologetic, if I feel like I should be—because my pride isn’t worth my compassion—and yet I’m not very concerned what most people think about me. I am neither accountable or apologetic for others, I am both because, quite simply, I try to “...be the change I want to see in the world.” I also believe in the power, and juxtaposition of gratitude.
I think that a number of people find some of these qualities to be conflicting, I don’t. That, among many other reasons, are what has enlightened me to the now evident verity that I am unlike most people.
I realized not too long ago that I haven’t missed anybody in a while, and it dawned on me that I rarely actually miss people, I mean, I have, of course, missed people, but not as frequently as most people seem to miss people. I care about people, not so much individuals, but that realization has never affected my basis of being kind and applicable, understanding and forgiving, grateful and authentic when, you know, living in the world—I mean, the only thing that any of us are guaranteed throughout the course of our lives is that we will, without a shadow of a doubt, always be surrounded by people—unless, of course, their awful, disgusting, rotten human beings, in which case, my general assertion is to—as gently and firmly as possible—specify that “we no longer exist to one another.” Some people think that’s cruel, personally I believe that life is too short to actively pretend, or to ignore (without the appropriate communicative action) people who I don’t want in my life.
I have observed, a short while ago, that I do actively miss somebody; there is someone in my life that I miss, sometimes even, while they are standing directly in front of me. In our humanity we need people, and there are people in my life that I care very, very much about, they matter a great deal to me, but I have moved around a lot and people have come and gone from my life so often that I haven’t really allowed myself to get attached; but it’s weird caring about what someone else actually thinks about me, like it willfully and exhaustively matters to me, and it sucks—for a lot of reasons.
I have been in love a couple of times, in my life; I mean, like, in the way that we commonly appreciate being in love (I accentuate the point because of my recent column about love, that you can read here), but I have never known love that has actually developed organically from nothing → respect → love; I’ve only been, like, you know: friends, and then like “whoa, we’re, like, totally in love now, far out! We should totally get, like, mar-ried and shit."
The thing is that although I do like, you know: playing a fool, and stumbling over myself, and saying stupid shit, and trying too hard, and having feelings it’s still also, well, it’s complicated—yeah, that’s the problem, I like the simplicity of communicating complicated away. That is—at least, part of the reason—why communication is so important to me; but what if you cannot genuinely, and openly communicate? The thing about a love that evolves organically, is that it’s not a choice. It is completely and irritatingly instinctual and compelling. It’s never been so difficult for me to, just, turn it off (I have tried, even if I don't really want to). And, that is very conflicting, which invites my reasons—whether they’re apparent to you readers or not—for writing this today. I haven’t yet talked about it, and that is not like me.
Do you ever think God gets bored—however you want to perceive God—I mean, boredom doesn’t have to look like a fat ol’ drunk sitting on a rusted (rusted, WTF?), torn ash gray couch, with a “half-full” bottle of Pabst pathetically offset between the cushions, one hand in a bowl of three day old popcorn, and the other hand stock-still down his untied gym pants, that look strikingly similar to the molded couch beneath his butt watching American Gladiators or Al Jazeera or recorded VHS tapes of 25 year old Dallas Cowboy games.
...or a human being without their cell phone!
We can reinvent what boredom might be to a collective, omnipotent, omnipresent (un)consciousness. I don’t know that God does necessarily get bored but there is definitely a dearth of entertainment in the omnisphere, cause WTF? ...I'm gonna need a reason for this one, my friend?