I haven't posted in awhile, and I don't get comments anyway.
By no small coincidence, nobody has gotten unduly angry at another person (read "online abstracted non-human substitute") in awhile.
Conclusion? Blogs can be pretty boring when we aren't behaving like twelve-year-olds.
That's okay though. I'd far sooner read a million boring posts than one flailing attempt at depth, one mimicry of politics, one surfacing memory of something that life must be missing because it was once read about in a book or seen on television. There is no way that life is supposed to be; life just is, and anything that seems otherwise is no more than the way one wishes life were despite all reality. As for soap opera blogs... Cela est bien dit, mais il faut cultiver notre jardin.
And on to the boring.
I haven't been sleeping much lately, and I'm really feeling the effects. Today, I was walking along a suspended hallway connecting the two engineering buildings, looking for a trash can to throw away my drink. I saw one, and had already decided how hard and at what angle I should toss the soda by the time I realized that the trash can was thirty feet away and on the first floor. After another night like the last few, I fear I might actually throw it. Or hit a pedestrian with my car, or fall down a flight of stairs, or accidentally kick my mom in the face (or your mom, for that matter). Before you say "Well, why don't you get some sleep?" or the even less useful "Get some sleep!", please consider that perhaps I wouldn't do something as mind-numbingly stupid as this if presented the choice. I can't sleep, and I'm not sure why. I'm mostly content right now. I'm a bit lonely, but I have always felt a bit lonely. Nothing has gone sour for me. I should be a happy and well rested individual, and I am, save for the well-rested part. Oh well.
That seems to be my motto. The "Oh well" thing, not the "accidentally kick my mom in the face" thing, though I could understand ones confusion given my usual relationship with my mother. That, or "Enjoy the Man Explosion." I'm torn.
For the longest time now, I have had this look. You all know what I'm talking about when I say "the look". It's that horrible, condescending, spiteful, G-rated, totally harmless blank stare that I get when I'm listening to people. Listening is a short-lived event for me; my friends begin their thoughts but refuse to finish because of some innate certainty that I'm mocking them behind the curtains. I feared that it might subconsciously be true, that maybe I'm not really listening when I always was so sure that I was. I think I might have finally figured out what "the look" is, and since I'm running on peanut butter oil fumes, I'm going to go wierd for a few minutes.
Book of Conversations, Chapter I, Verses 1-xx:
In the beginning, there was no talking. God did not like this, because without words, people could not worship Him or spread His love and glory, and, let's face it, he deserves the credit for that whole Creation thing. Thus, God did raise His hand and there was speaking. God soon found, however, that speaking alone made the world a much noisier place, and nobody seemed to benefit from it. God next created listening, and he looked upon this and... well, you get the point. Now people did speak, and people did listen, but the two activities never lined up. The chaotic effects of this scenario were best observed in the Gore/Bush debates of the year 2000 Presidential election. Miffed by this, God finally created the Conversation, a radical new ritual during which one person would talk and the other would listen until eventually the person listening became tired and decided that it was his or her turn to talk. Unfortunately, between all the talking and listening, there wasn't any room for thinking. The effects of this, too, were best observed in the Gore/Bush debates of the year 2000 Presidential election. God, quite frustrated and on the verge of a serious mental breakdown, decided that the best way to solve this problem would be to combine the listening and the thinking into one activity. Boom, a flash of light illuminated the morning sky, and modern conversations were born. Listening was marked with a particular look that conveyed the gravity of concentration on the task. Unfortunately, as time wore on, the proportion of listening to thinking began to slide askew as the non-speakers spent less time listening and more time thinking and waiting to speak. The look reflected this change, becoming animated as the thoughts of the non-speaker trickled forth through the pores of the semblance. The acumen of the race fell to obscurity as the nature and purpose of the look faded from memory...
I had to go to class, and then home, and then to brief and fleeting sleep. I'm back at home now after a day of dull oblivion. I did, however, get a tad bit more sleep than in the last few nights, so I can now coherently apologize for my ramblings. The point is, I know that I get the look only when I'm genuinely listening, and I don't when I'm debating. The connection is too solid to ignore. This doesn't mean much to anyone else, I'm sure, but it makes me feel a little less awful for forcing silence upon my dear friends. I'll keep working on it, but please know deep down that I listen whenever there is someone speaking to me.
I forgot whatever else I was going to post, but you can bet it was terribly boring, so I'll spare the trouble by going gently into the good night.
By no small coincidence, nobody has gotten unduly angry at another person (read "online abstracted non-human substitute") in awhile.
Conclusion? Blogs can be pretty boring when we aren't behaving like twelve-year-olds.
That's okay though. I'd far sooner read a million boring posts than one flailing attempt at depth, one mimicry of politics, one surfacing memory of something that life must be missing because it was once read about in a book or seen on television. There is no way that life is supposed to be; life just is, and anything that seems otherwise is no more than the way one wishes life were despite all reality. As for soap opera blogs... Cela est bien dit, mais il faut cultiver notre jardin.
And on to the boring.
I haven't been sleeping much lately, and I'm really feeling the effects. Today, I was walking along a suspended hallway connecting the two engineering buildings, looking for a trash can to throw away my drink. I saw one, and had already decided how hard and at what angle I should toss the soda by the time I realized that the trash can was thirty feet away and on the first floor. After another night like the last few, I fear I might actually throw it. Or hit a pedestrian with my car, or fall down a flight of stairs, or accidentally kick my mom in the face (or your mom, for that matter). Before you say "Well, why don't you get some sleep?" or the even less useful "Get some sleep!", please consider that perhaps I wouldn't do something as mind-numbingly stupid as this if presented the choice. I can't sleep, and I'm not sure why. I'm mostly content right now. I'm a bit lonely, but I have always felt a bit lonely. Nothing has gone sour for me. I should be a happy and well rested individual, and I am, save for the well-rested part. Oh well.
That seems to be my motto. The "Oh well" thing, not the "accidentally kick my mom in the face" thing, though I could understand ones confusion given my usual relationship with my mother. That, or "Enjoy the Man Explosion." I'm torn.
For the longest time now, I have had this look. You all know what I'm talking about when I say "the look". It's that horrible, condescending, spiteful, G-rated, totally harmless blank stare that I get when I'm listening to people. Listening is a short-lived event for me; my friends begin their thoughts but refuse to finish because of some innate certainty that I'm mocking them behind the curtains. I feared that it might subconsciously be true, that maybe I'm not really listening when I always was so sure that I was. I think I might have finally figured out what "the look" is, and since I'm running on peanut butter oil fumes, I'm going to go wierd for a few minutes.
Book of Conversations, Chapter I, Verses 1-xx:
In the beginning, there was no talking. God did not like this, because without words, people could not worship Him or spread His love and glory, and, let's face it, he deserves the credit for that whole Creation thing. Thus, God did raise His hand and there was speaking. God soon found, however, that speaking alone made the world a much noisier place, and nobody seemed to benefit from it. God next created listening, and he looked upon this and... well, you get the point. Now people did speak, and people did listen, but the two activities never lined up. The chaotic effects of this scenario were best observed in the Gore/Bush debates of the year 2000 Presidential election. Miffed by this, God finally created the Conversation, a radical new ritual during which one person would talk and the other would listen until eventually the person listening became tired and decided that it was his or her turn to talk. Unfortunately, between all the talking and listening, there wasn't any room for thinking. The effects of this, too, were best observed in the Gore/Bush debates of the year 2000 Presidential election. God, quite frustrated and on the verge of a serious mental breakdown, decided that the best way to solve this problem would be to combine the listening and the thinking into one activity. Boom, a flash of light illuminated the morning sky, and modern conversations were born. Listening was marked with a particular look that conveyed the gravity of concentration on the task. Unfortunately, as time wore on, the proportion of listening to thinking began to slide askew as the non-speakers spent less time listening and more time thinking and waiting to speak. The look reflected this change, becoming animated as the thoughts of the non-speaker trickled forth through the pores of the semblance. The acumen of the race fell to obscurity as the nature and purpose of the look faded from memory...
I had to go to class, and then home, and then to brief and fleeting sleep. I'm back at home now after a day of dull oblivion. I did, however, get a tad bit more sleep than in the last few nights, so I can now coherently apologize for my ramblings. The point is, I know that I get the look only when I'm genuinely listening, and I don't when I'm debating. The connection is too solid to ignore. This doesn't mean much to anyone else, I'm sure, but it makes me feel a little less awful for forcing silence upon my dear friends. I'll keep working on it, but please know deep down that I listen whenever there is someone speaking to me.
I forgot whatever else I was going to post, but you can bet it was terribly boring, so I'll spare the trouble by going gently into the good night.
posted by Casey at
17:25
