Peace Out, Man!

     It’s true that we are all unique products of special ingredients (genes).  In theory there are an infinite number of alternate universes out there where each one of us have grown up under different circumstances, but, we will never be able to know if the other “us’s” turned out different or the same.  The idea that our environment alters our course through life is an inaccurate theory because, as of yet, I don’t believe that anyone has successfully ventured to another dimension and back to find out if this is true. 
 
     That’s where the idea of a collective unconscious comes from.  There are things that societies in general seem to agree upon, no matter what society that is.  Child abuse is bad – everyone tends to agree on that for the most part (yet, it still happens).  Cruelty to animals is bad (again, most everyone seems to agree on that) but it still happens.  The collective unconscious of the entire body of living people that have walked the earth, or are currently walking it, seem to be in the constant pursuit of peace.
    
     So, why is violence and chaos still rampant?  Because “peace” is a matter of personal definition, and the path to peace is as varied as the definition.  No one likes to be uncomfortable.  And, what one person may find uncomfortable, someone else may find comfort in.  

     So, I submit there will ultimately be no world peace.  None!  And the reason is because we cannot agree on a definition.     

Texting

     Communication used to take weeks, or even months.  Now, it’s instantaneous.  But, have we accepted it?

     I have to share a story that’s been nagging at me ever since it happened over a year ago.  I received a text message from a guy-friend one afternoon.  It was a joke.  As I was busy, I didn’t reply right away.  Later that night, around midnight, I tapped out a reply then went to sleep.  The next morning I woke up to no less than 8 missed calls from his phone number, and a recorded message from him that morning.  Apparently, his new wife had wondered who would be sending him a text at midnight and completely flipped out that it was a woman.  She proceeded to call me at least 7 times, but left no message.  That morning, he woke up, checked his phone, saw my text (and her return calls), and braced himself for the onslaught of her coming wrath.  The voice mail he left me that morning was an apology; he was quite embarrassed by her behavior.  It’s no surprise they aren’t together anymore.

     I view texting as a placeholder for conversation.  We’re all super busy, and personally, if I don’t write something down as soon as I think of it, it might not be there when I finally have time to call someone.  So, I text.  It might be midnight, it might be 5am.  If you’re on the receiving end of one of those messages, and it happens to wake you, then you should have had your notification dinger turned off.  Do you not realize that you are in charge of your phone?  Turn it off at night if you don’t want a text.  The “placeholder” text I sent will be waiting for you in the morning. 

     Back in the days of the Pony Express, do we really think that people wrote letters only during the hours of 8am until 8pm?  I think not.  I imagine people wrote letters by candlelight in the middle of the night, when their minds were clear and the house was quiet.  Just like me….texting a reply to my friend about his joke at midnight.  Innocently. 

     Technology is moving forward at a pace that people with small minds can’t keep up with. 

(No, this is not me.  I got this image at: http://www.zenbedrooms.com/blog/index.php/is-sleep-texting-the-new-sleep-walking/)

 

 

40

I think there’s some mistake.  I feel 26…maybe 28, but not 40.  What happened? 

I can’t say I’m disappointed with the ride so far though.  But, then again, I do love roller coasters!

 

As I write this, my life has come full circle.   I am living in my childhood home, and my son is sleeping in my childhood bedroom. Life is sweet. 
 

I’ve seen amazing things and met amazing people. 

 

And, I'm speechless.

 

Ambien and Lortab

     I recently found this email from about a year ago buried in an account I no longer log into.  Apparently, I had sent this note to myself in a stupor fueled by a monster migraine that I self medicated.  No, this is not a regular occurrence.  So...here is the actual text of the "note to self" that I sent a year or more ago...and I actually had some pretty good thought patterns at the time...

"This is going to be interesting. Iam in an altered brain state writing this. I had the headache from hades earlier that persisted through lowly devices, like tylenol and forehead tapping and pushing. Damn, still there. Concluded the event was worthy of a lortab from my slendering supply. Also, figured an ambien was useful too, as lortab usually makes me wide awake. I haven't seen Golum this time, maybe I won't. He is nice enough.
So, essentially I wanted to walk up a few steps, seee if I got a good view from my parking spot. Look ay whats going on with other people. I've never understood weapons collectors. So crazy. Always a family. Ultimate peer pressure there. My family has many diverse interests. We each pursue them alone. So, the official approach is rathet lonely but less distracting
So, in concussion  drugs arent really bad. It's alll in how you use then and what you do with them. you can be magical!!!!!
Sent from my Verizon Wireless Phone"

A Letter to the Moon

Dear Mr. Moon,

     You see it all, don’t you, you peeping tom?  Some nights you wake me by staring in my window wearing a big mischievous grin.  Other nights you study me with a magnifying glass held up to your wide open eye.  You are so obtuse, and impersonal.  Should I call you Dr. Moon?

     But, you see all.  Who sleeps?  Who doesn’t?  Who reads (and what)?  You see my dad getting up in the middle of the night and pouring Pepsi into a half empty jar of mayonnaise, only to place it back in the fridge and not remember it in the morning. You know all of our secrets, even the bad ones.  You spy on lovers, and forbidden lovers.  You see kids clutching teddy bears, afraid of the shadow that your light spells across their bedroom walls.

     You see red and blue flashing lights, with flares.  You also see headlights of taxi cabs, and blinking lights on airplanes filled with passengers that pull down the shades to block your access (how rude of them).

     Mr. Moon, I would love to have coffee with you sometime.  Share your stories with me, all of them.  I want to know of the secret things you see… the polar bears, and the sleeping elephants.   I want to know of the sad things you see, the reality that we weak little subjects always shut out.  Don’t mince your words, tell me what you see!  But also, tell me the beauty.  Tell me of the lovers.  Tell me of the waves lapping on the forgotten shore lit by the gleam of your face.  Tell me of the lioness fearlessly giving birth to her cubs under your shield, far away from her pride.   Give me hope, Mr. Moon.

     Share your stories with me.  I’m hungry for them. 

Sincerely,

An Admirer