i have to force my self to write here. i haven’t really gotten any headway on my book going and i don’t feel like writing. there is this silent protest against literature going on with me, and it’s not like it’s on purpose. i just look at reading stuff and don’t want to do it. i think about writing a blog and realize i have absolutley nothing to say about anything. there’s just a lack of enthusiasim right now that’s has infused my person, and i’m waiting for something to happen and i have no idea what it is. something needs to happen, then things can go back to normal. as normal as i think it is anyways. i have no expectations, yet i feel like something passive needs to happen, and it feels like it should be out of my control. at least pasive enough to not even notice it’s in my control.

there are these moments where life slaps me in the face with how rediculous it is. deep down, i know it always is, but sometimes it just pops in to remind me. not even anything special most of the time. the mundane is where i notice it most.

i ride by this pond on the way to work everyday, and it’s always been crowded with the same flock of ducks. how can i tell it’s the same? i guess i can’t really, but there’s always this albino duck there. last season, it was only partially albino, and it had some brown markings that marked it as a female, but it was still mostly white. now one reproductive season later, there is a full on snow white duck that chills with the rest of them. in this gene pool, the albino was somehow found as a suitable mate for some other duck and the genes were passed on. not only were they passed on, but they were expressed. clearly there are few predators in the area because that snow white duck wouldn’t survive any other way, it sticks out against foliage like a drop of marshmallow fluff in the middle of a mud pit. he exsists in this society of ducks that knows he/she (i can’t tell since the duck is completley white with no other markings) is probably an outsider but someday that albino expression may very well save their race when the snows of global warming sweep the northwest and due to too much CO2, we create a winter wonderland where for 10 months out of the year, we have at least a couple of feet of snow on the ground. hoo boy, would that white duck be in high demand then. he/she’d be blending in with the surroundings while all the other ducks would be super contrasting with their surroundings. then the lone albino duck, the savior of his species would be fornicating copuiously and creating an army of white ducks that are better adapted to their surroundings, and natural selection wins again, in a stunning victory.

i can see all this, and that duck just wonders how it’s going to eat, and how to deal with other members of the flock. he eats thrown bread crumbs as much has any other red-blooded-american duck. he’s just bright white. and here i am, breaking down his world, putting it into psuedo-scientific terms of my design, all in an effort to catagorize and classify to make sense of everything around me, as if it makes it all better. yeah, you can totally look at a system and break it down, totally awesome for you. strip it down to it’s working parts and see how they mesh together. you’re on to something there.

i see all this in the world around me and it is glorious, and it goes from the complex societies of microbes to the complex inter-relations among humans, to the relationship between the ocean and plate tectonics. it all has this feeling of familiarity that i may have conjured out of nothing. i’d like for it to be more familiar, becuase it’s easier that way, and i’ve been overexposed. you can only do so much sitting around and being amazed though, you’re gonna get numb. get numb and squander some potential.

what potential is there to squander? potentially, anything is possible, and potentially, nothing is possible. it can swing either way depending on how you look at it. i could say i’m squandering what i have, but anyone could look at me and judge. i like to judge myself, it’s almost redundant. but what is there to squander? who says that i am? if i’m alive, how can anything be squandered? if the only standards to live up to are my own, then what in the hell am i doing? more unanswerable questions than answers. it’s pure stupidity either way.

i should probably floss more often.