Simplicity

It was an easy decision to get out of bed this morning, but every decision after that became lined with preemptive scrutiny and rational thought.

Is it safe to say that had I not gotten out of bed that things would have been different? Would that singular decision have affected the outcome of so many other concurring events in my life that the benefits would have outweighed the consequences?

Assume for a minute that you decided not to brush your teeth this morning... Apart from being despicably unorthodox and vile, it was still YOUR decision. Maybe later in the day you would regret it, but the decision, and the consequences, were YOURS alone. However the question still remains: Would it have made a difference?

Is the simple life led by those whom desire good and achieve it; who make decisions, and accept them? The outcome of our decisions should not haunt us, nor drive us to the scrutiny of others, but allow for a serene intervention of both feeling and thought to combine in effort to settle our existence in singular harmony. The consequences will always follow, but the decision, is only OURS to make...

Freudian Slip vs. Unfortunate Miscommunication

Marcus Aurelius said in his book, Meditations: "Train yourself to think only those thoughts such that in answer to the sudden question, 'What is in your mind now?' you could say with immediate frankness whatever it is, this or that: and so your answer can give direct evidence that all your thoughts are straightforward and kindly." As a philosophical philanthropist and leader of an empire, Marcus understood what it was to always be thinking, and never be caught off guard worrying about selfish or ambiguous impressions. This bit of advice could have saved me from embarrassment from the many times that I have been asked what I was thinking, and the only non-sensical reply I could surmise from the depths of the hollow inside of tubing within my head was, "I don't know." Teachers and professors have never been too fond of this reply. Of course, it is better to admit that one is thinking about nothing, than to shout "mother lover" during a political science class... Yes, I'm referring to myself. The question that was posed was whether or not the state senators represented the people fairly. Having watched the famous J.T. and Andy Samburg earlier that day, it was all I could do to not picture J.T. pouring syrup on a waffle... Now to the punch line: I responded, "I think the senators would do a better job with "mother lovers" (I meant to say motivating)... and from there it was quite the ordeal. However, the real question remains, how many times have we spat out any non-sensical catastrophe of words and wished we could pull them right back in? Was Freud right when he said we only say what we are thinking? Or was it just a horrible mishap that had my professor second guessing my intelligence? The world may never know...

The Irony of "Man"

After having a conversation with an old friend of mine the other day, I couldn't help but notice that as he talked about an emotional subject, one that any alpha male would be despised to admit, he continually and energetically used the word, "man" to end or begin his thoughts and conjectures. Does this astound no one else but me? There is irony behind the person who refuses to take advice, but insists on giving it. There is even irony in the fact that it drizzled in the late afternoon of Alanis Morisettes' wedding day. Yet I feel compelled that irony is best exhibited in the single, simplistic act of a man becoming emotional while irrevocably and inexplicably using the word "man" to describe his inner most concerns. Think about it... Have you ever heard the following phrases spoken between two men? "Thanks man." "I love you man." I'm sorry man." "You're the best, man." How interesting it is that the few times that a man becomes emotional throughout the day, or month in hedonistic cases, he uses the word man to describe his emotional serenity? In an arbitrary sense, the thought that the same word used as an adjective for being: tough, brave, resilient, honorable, and strong, gives rise to feministic ideals while lowering testosterone, keeps one asking, "How does it work, man?"

About the author...

Isn't interesting that at the back of every book, the writer feels that surreal inclination to label his/her work with a small photo and otherwise useless information? I ask the question: How many times have you approached one of these authors, and felt a sense of inner peace knowing that he got a bachelors degree in physical science at a community college? Or that the author of your favorite love novel went to France twice to, "receive inspiration" for her work? In light of this manner of thinking, I will presume to join the masses and describe a somewhat colloquial version of what it is to be me, while striving to keep with the hypocritical nature of my stance. Where to begin...