to read or to write? i could go peruse news right now and carry buckets up the ladder to the top of my head and dump more things on the pile in there, or i could just kick it from behind and spill everything out in a haphazard way. already, since i am here using a very tilted metaphore, the decision has been made.

it’s funny to think that blogger is only 8 years old (so says Blogger Buzz) and that this page is almost the same. my computer companion through life, here to record things so i don’t forget and always know where to find them. as i sit here, i realize how ridiculous this is, to think that i have been writing stuff down for damn near a quarter of my life. nothing important mind you, just stuff. mostly harmless. the times they are a changin’.

i’m pretty sure i saw something the other day. it reminded me of something, and i reflected. and then nothing happened. i just kept right on thinking about the next best thing to keep my mind occupied.

i read somewhere that unhappiness stems from the fact that your brain can project the future. if i do this, then these will be the ramifications. if you could live from one second to the next, then this wouldn’t be a problem. which sounds fine, in theory, but is just silly. it would render you without longterm memory, in a sense. so you wouldn’t be able to forecast likely things to happen in the future, but it would leave you without a frame of reference either. living from second to second on your whims, on whatever you are a person, without all the growth, mistakes, lessons learned. i guess you wouldn’t know any better if it did happen, but making the willful choice to live this way would take some serious deluding.

i have a dog now, and it’s the dog i never pictured myself getting. a little chihuahua/pomeranian that couldn’t keep up with me running if i was going backwards. no fetch, no wrestling, none of the stuff i have come to enjoy with owning dogs. and yet this dog is still awesome, full of attitude, not too whiny, and always down for a nap. i can say bialy’s had a very positive effect on our house. she fits right in, and i can’t help but get attached.

everyone keeps telling me that there is so much meaning in everything around me. i can see it, i suppose, but to what end? even if i write it down somewhere, it doesn’t really accomplish much, but when did i start measuring things via accomplishment? look out world, here i come.

clues. they’re all around, trying to get me to go in the right direction. which can be a circle if i interpret these clues in one way. it can lead to a bigger circle if done another. go for the big or small circle? is bigger necessarily better? natch. if i had to walk them i would choose the small one. it would take less time, and leave me with more of it. for there are a certain number of times this heart is going to beat. i wish i could count them all up and put them in a study where millions of other people did the same thing, and then it would be charted out on a magnificent bell curve, showing how many beats per life people had. i would be somewhere on that shining model of statistics, and i could know exactly where i fit, and that would be that. now i have to speculate and wonder if i’m above or below average. because it matters, duh.

having so much information in my life makes me dumb.