I suppose that everything can be considered waterproof until acted upon by water. I thought the special shampoo I used protected me. I soon realized that in order for the shampoo to work, I had to apply water…defeating the purpose that wasn’t really a purpose in the first place.
Samuel L. Jackson is the coolest dude who ever walked the planet. You can’t even try to make an argument against this. A jedi Knight… Nick Fury… and JOHN SHAFT! Shaft alone is more than enough to prove my theory is fact.
An idea with imagination but no motivation is a ghost. If you believe it, you can see it… but if you don’t believe then you just have to watch the next episode of Scooby Doo. I watch Frank write over and over in his little black notebooks ideas that come from out of nowhere. 98% of those ideas are horrible. (his words, not mine) He has to keep writing to set a standard…to know what is good and workable… and what will need to be forgotten once its documented. You need to know where not to go so you don’t end up going there again.
That’s imagination. The ability to see it all, but only use a tiny bit. If he wasn’t motivated to bring those notebook scribbles out, why bother scribbling in the first place? Save the trees and the ink. Thinking you can do more with what’s there also plays a big part. Starting something and realizing that it may not look like you thought, keeping an open mind along the way to augment your vision if it needs it is important too.
Today was an unusually warm day for November. The outside cleaning that Frank hoped would not have to happen until the spring was fully doable today. He resisted but the relented. It was beautiful in a sad sort of way. It wasn’t supposed to be this warm today. He wasn’t supposed to break boxes down and fill garbage bags up with stuff cleaned out of the shed three months ago… his timeline was potentially skewed by the jet stream.
Space time and meteorological continuum theories aside, the backyard looks nice. Well, better than it did.
I like campfires. I don’t go camping much. Actually, I don’t go camping at all. But I like french fries even though I’ve never been to France… (and before you email Frank, I looked it up, they’re Belgian)
Yes, I may be exposing my egoism… why not? It needs sunlight and air to live just like a lot of other mossy things. My ego and I have long conversations about us. It’s our favorite topic to interact on. Why do campfires always have to be ghost story territory? Why can’t a squirrel make into that genre?
Apparently, today’s theme is all about self esteem. This little nugget is one you can dip into the sauce over and over…
You don’t need to be genuinely great to have a great self esteem. I’m sure that if you took an honest poll of all the hyper-confident perceived people out there in the world, they’d say that it’s not all true. They are just as unsure about everything (including themselves) as those who have lower esteems. What the lack in this outward confidence they make up for in a swagger, a manufactured presence that is read as genuine confidence… when really it’s all an act.
I wish I had that. To act as though I’m right even when I can see that I’m wrong. (stop laughing out there.)
Self-esteem is everything. Being in shape is everything too. Everything you are. But what does it matter WHICH shape IN shape is? You need to be healthy, no question… but six-pack abs can have the same heart attack as two kegs and a 2-liter. If how you feel about yourself is skewed, the shape on the outside is relatively meaningless. I don’t think there are enough fitness programs out there that specifically target the self-esteem. Physical fitness programs say that one of the side benefits is a stronger self-esteem, but it never really is the main focus.
I don’t plan on doing anything about this. I love myself and pizza too much to have them waging war against each other.
I hate this… I hate that… I hate the direction this vehicle is headed… blah, blah, blah… it solves nothing, and even though the word is heavily used and worn on sleeves, shirts, caps and shoes, there doesn’t seem to be any indication that overuse has made it mean less. People that I was never really scared of are now scaring the nuts right out of me… simply by using this word hate.
I guess my reaction to this would be shock…and a bit of wondering. It’s like this was always there, but just under the surface…like a splinter you don’t know you have until you grab something the wrong way.
Hate can blind and cloud judgement. It never had good intentions, even if that’s what it says. It can be fuel, but it can also stop you dead in your tracks.
I want to savor that moment… that pinpointed moment of caring less. In a way, it would be a moment of sheer liberation… like i got out of the maze and my only choice of direction was that there was not choice. I could do anything, go anywhere and all I had to do was let go. Erase my thoughts and live for a moment. One solitary moment.
It would only last a second before it was something that happened to me in the past. 5 minutes from that moment I would reminisce about the good old days… when I didn’t care and didn’t want to care. 10 minutes for that moment, the memory would start to get all fuzzy. After 15 minutes, I have the fuzziness with the added color of a soundtrack… what song I was listening to that defined my squirrel generation. 20 minutes, who cares… it’s over… the fuzziness has faded to black, the song is over and I’m pining over not having another moment.