I’ve got to get things done; people to meet; thoughts to analyze, and if I’m honestly lucky, get some free pepperoni pizza in the middle of all this self-resonated chutzpah.
Been there, done that, you’d say.
Nothing works better than re-arranging that furniture in your head once in a while though.
People shrink, shrivel up almost, into little prunes, when faced with the dire perception of even mildly psycho-analyzing themselves. It’s damn easy to get off and about on someone else’s hyped-up sob-story, and put in little jabs and notes here and there, and feel cocky and self-assured.
Lolzz.
My my.
One wonders where all that self-assurance goes when one’s faced with one’s own limitation-analysis, in a manner of speaking.
You’d think fessing-up is highly over-rated.
I thought so too.
To remind others of what’s right and wrong, good or bad, up or down ( I’d give you a page of opposites dears; taught pre-school for 3 months and haven’t had the mental capacity to lose them opposites, yet!;) )
But pun aside. Well-intended sarcasm side-lined. Time-out from crazy mentally challenging chick-flicks and tough-guy movies.
I’m sitting on my couch…its 2 am...and duh, I’m alone.( The rusty night-light does wonders for the ambience, I must say.)
The old clichés of what’s my purpose in life? Why am I on this earth? Why am I petulant and whiney at 2 am? Why am I craving food that’s going to make my arms and legs jiggle by the time I’m 40?
I could go on.
Making someone realize what they want, or need, is a great feeling actually. For fear of sounding pompous, one feels a great sense of being, and worthiness , when one is there for a friend or family.
Sympathy and compassion are just a flick of the wrist away from pity and smugness.
Why? Because, lets face it. If re-arranging furniture is stimulating, re-arranging mental furniture must be pure un-adulterated joy.
( Please note the generic tinge of suppressed but polite sarcasm here.)
Point being, we go through life, putting ourselves in a box and throw away the key in some forsaken place…and when its time to clear away the good-intended cob-webs….shucks.
That’s life. It will throw you in limbo, it will get you caught up situations that your grandma warned you about, and it will tease and taunt your intelligence.
So what now?
That Pandora box of self-image is highly mesmerizing, more like that little dreamy dress( for girls) in the showroom you don’t dare try on for size, because you don’t want to look flabby or worse, too eager to be a fashion puppet. For guys, I’d choose that flashy hairdo that you think is so cool, but hey, it might not look cool on you, and worse, people will notice and admit that.
Coming back to that Pandora box.
It’s a ticking time-bomb, that’s what is the point. We are scared like s***
( pardon my French ) that opening it up would unravel that whole knotted up mental mitten, and cascade a whole snow-ball down on the old haggard self, which will come down as the epic but poetic nonetheless, house of cards.
Sigh.
Too much imagery, eh.
And mental galore.
And we so don’t need that after that crappy day at work, with that moody boss, with that fussy car or worse, unpredictable weather, eh.
I mean, who wants added stress and that too, self-induced and self-structured, no matter how haphazard, stress??
Who in their right, intelligent, but somewhat questionable minds would put themselves through that mental hodgepodge?
And that is neither a trick question, nor a rhetorical one.
For we aren’t as weak as we presume ourselves to be.
Things in life don’t seem what they are, people aren’t what they should be, and that job remains crappy.
But we still keep on pushing.
Lets follow the KISS formula. “Keep-it-simple-stupid.”
I don’t know about you, but I find that mildly objectionable. No point in adding insult to injury, calling ourselves stupid, eh.
I prefer this:-“ Keep-it-short-&-simple.”
Simplicity comes with a rigorous self-analysis of oneself.
Know what you have faith in, and what gives you hope.
The rest comes in tow, and if its fast…it’s a bonus.
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