The floodgates have been opened - beware. I feel almost as if, having started writing, I can't stop. The more you write the easier it is to express, and expressing feels good. It's just such a relief to let some of it out.
You never know what a day may bring. I never know what a day may bring in terms of thoughts. I'm so disorganized. But so are most blogs. That's the whole point, I guess. To get away from essays and term papers and assigned writing. An outlet for stream-of-conscious. Unfortunately for any readers I am...very stream of conscious. I like to say I'm an concrete example of abstraction - I'm concretely abstract and abstractly concrete. I wonder if it makes it hard to follow. I like tidiness but I never did put much stock in structure. Structure hampers life. Lack of it also hampers life. Pick one.
Today I decided to check out some other blogs; one I found randomly by clicking "next blog" and the other was one highlighted by blogger.
Trying out TimeSnapper, which is a free Windows program that automatically takes a screenshot every 5 seconds, every 5 minutes, every 5 hours, whatever you like. I've got it set to every minute (with the limit set to 3 GB). This is part of my grand plan to create a memex (lifetime store of everything). Other components: Google Desktop for searching email, calendar, tasks, files, past webpages; daily webcam photos; Emsa personal keylogger; chat/IM logs; Evernote. - http://jonaquino.blogspot.com/
Wow. Creepy. I am a packrat of sorts because to me everything has a memory connected to it. But...screenshots every minute? That's insane, even to me! A "memex" would be complete overload. Some things it's just more pleasant to forget. Have to live in the present and leave room for the future too!
Another one, not the blog itself but the author's little blurb about herself:
Once upon a time I met a frog. I kissed the frog. He turned into a Grumpy Prince. I married him anyway. We had a baby. This meant getting pregnant. Being pregnant is very strange. I felt an intense urge to blurt this out to everyone. Having a baby also, oddly, means ACTUALLY having a baby. I felt the need to blurt this out as well. I am still blurting. Welcome to my blurt. - http://notes-inside-my-head.blogspot.com/
Now that's profound...cutely profound? Or profoundly cute? Both, I guess. So there are a lot of people out there with something good to share. What freaks me out is how many people are sending their voices in the the blank void of cyberspace, having something significant to say, wanting to be heard. Even if blogging is just about the most informal way to get your thoughts out, people don't usually take the trouble unless they have something important enough to them that they think it's worth saying. How will they all be heard? I guess in the caring friends that take the time to read what they have to say; we all have a circle of lives we touch. It is still scary though to think how many blogs exist in all, and God hears them all.
I have a question I've been thinking about for the past several days. What would it be like to befriend a person completely like yourself? I think I have made the discovery that, frankly, if I met myself on the street in a different body, I probably wouldn't recognize it as me! I'm just not used to seeing myself outside of myself. In fact, if anything, I am always trying to put myself in other people's shoes; I tend to mimic people. I suppose if I met myself then that self would decide to mimic me too. At which point we would lose track of who we were.
Right now it's raining. The windows are open, and I smell all the cool freshness. It reminds me of Hosea 6:3 (NIV):
Let us acknowledge the LORD;
let us press on to acknowledge him.
As surely as the sun rises,
he will appear;
he will come to us like the winter rains,
like the spring rains that water the earth.
Oswald Chambers once said that when people are in trial and in pain, it isn't our job to help them out of their pain. How dare we take away that which will help them most to grow!
There was a story of how a boy saw a butterfly emerging from its cocoon. It had to struggle very hard. The boy felt sorry for it, so he tore the cocoon off. But there was something very wrong. The butterfly's wings just lay in a heap; they didn't expand. And they never did. This butterfly couldn't fly. The truth is that the struggle that the butterfly goes through to get out of its cocoon strengthens the muscles and gets the blood flowing into the wings. Without the struggle, the wings do not develop properly. I have this image in my mind of myself, and many others, like a butterfly in the throes of leaving its cocoon, struggling to expand its wings. It's painful and beautiful all at once, and such a delicate process that none can interfere...only watch and wait.
I can't sleep tonight. I have a bad habit of thinking profound stuff out before bed, and it doesn't really help me to fall asleep.
The truth is I'm slowly dying...of heartbreak. Non-romantic heartbreak. I guess I do have a tragic side. I find I'm still working through anger. Working through it keeps me from becoming bitter, but it means not stuffing it and so the feelings do resurface every once in awhile. I can't really be honest enough to express how hard everything is or how uglily I respond sometimes, just wanting to hurt people who have hurt me. Contrary to popular opinion, I can and do get angry at times, and it's not cute. I want to be honest - but maybe the most honest I can be is that I can never be really really honest. I'm not brave enough, and sometimes discretion is wiser anyhow.
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