Why not? This place has value, at least to me. I thought about letting it go, but I don’t want to. That being said, it seems appropriate for me to add something like “nanny nanny, boo boo” to that statement, but I have no idea why.
I was going to change the theme for the blog, as I tend to do every so often, but I discovered that it would require making a decision that is a bit beyond my current capabilities. There are just too many of the damned things and they’re all on one page. I caught myself scrolling through the myriad of designs, and I had no idea if I had actually seen anything after the first three other than the colorful blur as they flashed by me. While I am rather adept at scrolling, I’m a lot less capable of paying attention while I’m doing it. I could have easily wasted the rest of my night lost in this rolling Sea of WordPress while I sat daydreaming about ninjas and tacos, or possibly ninjas with taco stands, but I caught myself before it was too late to reboot my brain. Regardless, it appears that WordPress and I will still be killing time together, even if the methodology is something I can pretend is a little more productive.
I’m ashamed to admit that I’ve used the cliche “neither here nor there” more than once in my life, but I think this is the first time that I can accurately apply it to something that will allow me to overlook the fact that it’s complete nonsense. It’s a perfect description for how I feel at the moment, and I’m enjoying the idea that I can wallow in the ambiguity implied by its nullifying allure. I am neither here nor there, which does present the possibility that I’m somewhere else, but constructing a practical foundation to support that theory is a bit perplexing. I suppose there is still a valid argument for me being here, but that will need to be addressed from a philosophical perspective and I have no desire to tumble down that rabbit hole at the moment. It’s not that I’m unwilling to explore the mysteries of the Universe at that level, as I do so enjoy the occasional jaunt into the Transcendental Morass of Possibility. I’m really just incredibly lazy and would much rather go back to not seeing the WordPress themes before causing myself that kind of stress.
Aside from that of my childhood, which was lost at sea in a freak incident somewhere near the Bermuda Triangle, I’ve saved as much of my past writing as I possibly could. I don’t know why. Every time I find myself going back and looking at any of it, I have to wonder at what point in my life I suffered a grievous brain injury and went batcrap crazy. I’m not sure it ever healed, either. I tried so hard to sound like I knew something everyone else didn’t, and that I had a degree of depth that would showcase my unnatural aptitude for reaching beyond the limitations of the human mind. Unfortunately, the reality can be more accurately described by the opening line of one of the unfinished projects I saw in my files tonight: “The most difficult part of even getting to this point was finally coming to the realization that none of this is about me.” Yeah, that’s…uh…something. While it’s a terrible way to start a book, it’s actually one of the rare tidbits of tangible wisdom that appears anywhere in my work. From what I can see, since I can’t remember actually writing it, there must have been a brief moment when I almost had a grasp on something that surpassed the trivial elements of my everyday existence. I appeared to be on the brink of some real personal growth, and it seemed the Universe was finally going to open that elusive, proverbial window and lead me out of the Wilderness of Mediocrity in which I had been wandering for so long. It was my density…I mean…my destiny (thanks, McFly).
Unfortunately, I followed it up with this: “It seems like it should be, especially since I have spent countless hours gathering all of the sordid experience I need to qualify as an educated observer.” Apparently, I couldn’t go one more sentence without it becoming something about me again. Wow. I’m sure it was effortless, too, although I have the sneaking suspicion that there may have been a fleeting sensation of something slamming shut on my fingers. “Almost,” the Universe probably said mockingly. I fail to understand why I thought it would be a good idea to use the word “gathering” when it came to “sordid experience,” too. Apparently, I was on an Easter egg hunt in Hell, but I guess it was an enlightening one.
I really couldn’t go on after those first two sentences, mostly because I’m not a freakin’ sadist, and it was one of those ephemeral moments when I was actually a tad grateful for the stroke. I have no idea what comes next in that piece, and I have absolutely no desire to find out. Granted, there is the tiniest possibility that I somewhat improbably and unexpectedly crafted something of incredible significance and value, and that I am robbing myself of the opportunity to bless the human race with this testament to my exceptional acumen, but that is about as likely as me getting selected to attend Hogwarts next year. It’s more likely that all of that sordid gathering I had been doing inspired me to spend the next six pages writing about a magic potato.