filler, fodder, or philosophy (genius comes in all forms)

ah yeah, so sometimes i think my comments should be read by everyone because the words are just so meaningful and if humanity misses them, how will they ever learn to save themselves (to save humanity, teach humanity to save itself... not too unrelated to teaching a man to fish, ya know, but don't take that as a raving accolade for the rest of the text if you know what i mean)...

yeah, now that i turned off and sufficiently distracted a bulk of the western world (poor saps), on with the commentary about the comments that precedes the comments... sometimes you people inspire me to think I might actually know what i am talking about when i confront myself (or laugh at myself, or better yet, both) in response to your comments...

or maybe it's just a way to fill in the dates when i nod off early or go to concerts or get too busy or simply do not find the motivation to upload (or even write)... but shhhh, we can believe it's profound influence from your wise comments, right...

so for the rest of the world (and posterity), here we go:

what what what?...
don'tcha love me anymore?...
whatcha picking on me for?...
dontcha love me anymore?...

so i grin, sue me...

but seriously, hmmmm, if there's anything that dandies up z's dander, it's the smell of a pity-party and i see some dander up in my face here, which is much appreciated and amusing because consistency and honesty is appreciated and amusing to me...

you is right, mostly... you too, z (badumduh)... it's not that i never return people's phone calls, it's that I do it poorly, inconsistently, slowly, and with much forgetfulness...

it does not help that my history with phones, right up to the present day, includes associating people wanting money or something else from me with the ringing... and then there is the history (and scars and PTSD) of the pain associated with trusting the phone and voices on the other end...

i can rationalize it away, but the same rationalist accepts that reality, for me, is mostly in the visual spectrum these days (which is probably why my rhyming fantasies are few and far between), and maybe the actual reality is that it's always that way... whatever it real out there, in the brain where i live, what my eyes do not see, my brain does not respond to well...

excuses, sure, but real behaviorally effecting (or is that affecting) phenomenon that is measurable and repeatable...

i return phone calls in spurts... like i returned a dozen phone calls or more the week i was finally actually shopping for a computer...

so i'm sensitive, or over-sensitive, by most human standards... and i live in my own little bubbles most of the time, expect when I find a wave of hope refresh the child inside and i bounce out of my bubble all wide-eyed and excited about reaching out and talking and listening and playing well with others...

that happens less and less these days, but there's always hope it'll happen more...

being too self-contained is self-defeating for the part of me that wants to fall in love and share everything with someone... but all in all, i think it's better than the illusion of dependencies and insecurities most people seem to believe in...

i am exactly what i am
and not the way you'd like to see me be
i look outside long as i can
then i close my eyes and watch my world unfold before me

closer to the core where i actually live, the music remains the same... and in closing, irreverent simplicity inspires my smile...

yeah, what i am is what i am
(you what you are or what?)

and of course you know it was not enough to stop there (even though i very well could have as satisfaction was clearly peacefully mine at the time)... but then, my world is a peaceful happy place when i remember where it is and how to get there... sure, sharing it would be more ideal, but i can be quite happy with less than perfection... even though, from time to time, i through myself a pity party focusing on what i do not have more than what i do...

that's when i am happy to be inspired to ponder this:

sometimes the shell calls and we hole up in it for a while and believe it is good, whatever it might be in reality... we can tell ourselves we are caterpillars needing quiet seclusion to become butterflies... but how many times?...

perhaps it is good now and then, but too often or for too long and it becomes a bad habit of avoidance and self-indulgent denial... i've been there, it got me here, which is very close to nowhere...

now i spend my days distracting myself with life outside of my dreams and look for my way out and back to where i belong...

get back, get back...

luckily my own drama inspires my self-laughter and i mock myself out of it most of the time, especially when it sneaks up on me...

there's always a choice, and most of the time i choose to be happy... i don't know why anyone else would choose anything else most of the time...

may you create happiness and most of all, be honest...

yeah, so whatever this is, it's a smile in my head and now, an entry in the blog that never was, but maybe, now is, someday...