Of life and other vegetables.

Having recently taken the time to read my own tripe, which considering the levels of egotism that I have long believed I possessed, is not something I do as much as I should (because I am brilliant and good looking), it struck me, with a blunt and rather weighty piece of scrap metal, that I have been progressively more mediocre and maudlin in what I project into the infinity of cyberspace.

While what I contribute in bytes may never be of any real significance to the world at large, or event to a particularly small and blithe township in Hicksville, it doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t be making the effort to entertain the masses and offend the select few who have proved themselves worthy of my disdain.

I have found myself becoming increasingly wary of the dramatic, insofar that my tolerance to people taking what is essentially a grain of life, placing it on a stark white tiled surface, pointing at it frantically and screaming for all to contest, ‘it’s a mountain!’. The ongoing upheavals that existence buffets us with, while seemingly pressing and palpable, are merely the price tag on an intricate, though normally unprepossessing, Persian rug. To lose your head looking down off the rope bridges that ferry us from one mountain range of life to another means that you really aren’t looking ahead of you, which, if I may be permitted to sound condescending, is what you should be doing.

Please bear with me as take you trough the following misty landscape (these posts are fed into a social networking site, which is accessible by everyone I have ever said good morning to, hence the need for discretion). Imagine, if you will, a man who has been classically trained in the ancient arts of panic, brooding and self imposed stoicism. Now imagine, again if it so pleases you, that said protagonist in his amblings kicks open a crate filled with shiny new situations (retail value nil, durability between 3 microseconds and the rest of your life). There are really only a pair of deployable courses of action, being; either to attempt to juggle them all and walk along fretting about when on will drop on his foot and result in tarsal tunnel, or to calmly pull his life binder out, place each one of the situations under the appropriate divider and deal with them in a rational (if boring), project managed way. There are pros and cons to each.

Needless to say that the manner in which one decides to deal with the misnomers of the earthly plane define a person. Those who deem it wise to learn, develop and ultimately build from the mortar of experience, will (theoretically), lead a life worth leading. The other contingent, who prefer to lose their heads over the minutiae and focus on the irrelevant, will as a result, step into a steaming pile of fido’s best work.

God Speed.

May the New Year bring no falling anvils upon your hallowed head.

Malice