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Of a blog
Michael considered fate at 14:25   |   Permalink   |   Post a Comment

Personally, and I am not saying that I have anything emotionally invested in BritCoals wellbeing, in fact i think he is only mildly good looking but showers too often, i think that his prose shines most lustrously (spelling?) when he writes from the heart.
I like the links, and have learned a SHITLOAD since I rarely know where/how new information is generated on the interweb, but the memorable ones for me are the ones from the guts....the jazz...the bowels.
right on 

i agree, he showers too much 

I refuse to believe I shower too much. 
What happened? Where am I? Who am I? Somewhere along the line I got horribly derailed and things changed and life got in the way and I tripped over it and got up and dusted myself off and fell down again and maybe I forgot where I was going that first time I tripped or the second or I forgot how many times I fell down.

This blog has suffered as a result. I write this at a time when more comments are coming in from more people than ever before, at least consistently so, and I'm beginning to see a readership that is interested in the articles I link to and the economic musings I mess about. Some people would say that is not a blog that suffers but a blog that is coming into its own; thriving, even. I say it is not what I intended in the first place and I don't know how to reconcile with those differences.

Is that OK? I would like to think that life can be many things at once but often times everything has to be one way or another, specific, directed. Otherwise it is all so much gray in a world of black and white; confusing, unclear, like this blog post.

But one of the basic tenets of this blog from the start was the belief that almost anything I could or would type out and re-read* and publish was, in some small way, worth it. If I could put that much energy into creating it and then even more energy into validating it then there must'a'been some value to it, no? Thoughts not shared or written down become lost children in a make believe world and when - if - they are ever found again they come back as allegorical garbage with comical villains and trite lessons about life and happiness. That isn't what I ever intended. That isn't what I ever wanted. I hate Disney.

Okay, so there is something to be said for chitty-chitty-bang-bang and never-never land but those places are pages in a book. They aren't the places that I go when I close my eyes and stumble downward into the abyss of stories and ideas and dark spaces and light faces and all that jazz being played in the bowels of my brain. That is what this blog was supposed to be for. The jazz. The bowels. My brain.

So maybe I tripped and I forgot to get up. Maybe somewhere along the way I couldn't stomach all this internal belly-aching babble anymore and I sort of clammed up and turned instead to quotes of Keyes and the needs of Maslow and..

I wax cynical about income inequality and big corporations and consumerism and and and I've been ignoring the real dialog this whole time - the one inside - the one that actually started here and not in some newspaper or not by a talking head on the television and not one that has been beaten to death by a hundred thousand million Democrat/GOP/leftist/conservative/elephant/whales.. It's not that I don't care anymore, it's almost like I can't care anymore.

Luckily, life has a way of reminding me of things I need to do. There are the elephant and whale reminders: an email telling me my insurance policy must be renewed. But there are also those less tangible reminders: tiny little things like a penny on the sidewalk with the face shining upwards that turn wispy wheels of waxy philosophics into grinding gears of grounded thought - and they get me here with these words and you here, still reading them. That is worth something, isn't it?

So sure, I'll continue with the facts and figures. I'll spend time trying to make sense of it all, the dollar signs and the daily grind, but I'm going to try to remember what brought me here and why I stayed, too. Back to the roots, as they say, that wily web of reason and wisdom that spills forth from our mental innards like steam from a geyser, water from a well - not what I'm told, or read, or see, or hear, but what is actually from the inside, where nobody goes.

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Check out heroecs, the robotics team competition website of my old supervisor's daughter. Fun stuff!
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