I guess I would have thought a species that could leave and return to its home planet would also be able to capture, recondition, and reuse its own particulate flush (bath water). Or maybe I just want a hot tub.
I wonder how many folks intend to annotate their book from the get go.
I also ended up growing super uncomfortable, mumbling myself into silence saying something about feeling like an asshole. Ten seconds later I realized I’d just proven my point as part of some nth wall meta and I surrendered.
I wouldn’t feel half as clever if I weren’t allowing myself to claim recursion here.
Trying to audibly share yesterday’s trilogy post highlighted how much connective tissue I still tend to omit (like it actually being a tetralogy).
Whoever is buying my data is totally getting a bum deal.
It is a pendulum. Someone eats the energy or it never dies down.
I suppose keeping my mouth closed can pose quite the quandary
Humanity loves to take meaningless action so it can look at itself in the mirror and squint ‘til it looks significant.
Before taking the center midfielder position (practically the utility position) I was a utility player (anywhere but in goal). It is this use of the word that frames what I believe to be my strongest asset. I can crossbreed my interests at will. I am reminded of the gentleman engineer whose origami we were shown when we visited Japantown. All in on that fella being dual brained. All this bullshit is just leading up to my original thought:
I wonder how many other utility peeps are dual brained
When you can’t consider something that resolves humorously within the confines of your own skull producing the involuntary utterance of a gently audible huh without the dog being all (precursory side note: yeah, you try remembering what it was)
When you recognize one of your Kota control methodologies has been the deployment of what is effectively an inverted phalanx.
To arrive at the previous two posts one may follow this simple instruction set:
- Admit you feel like a genius
- Point out to yourself that you by no means are claiming to actually be a genius (only approach to the point of the difference being negligible (see… humble))
- Mix a little “if you think you are the smartest one in the room” cliche (making sure to break that fourth wall first)
- Surrender to the fact that you are just one more bloke in the room and probably an asshole for thinking so highly of yourself (see… humble).
- Imagine what it must take not to surrender to your own ineptitude. I came up with someone never really facing failure. How do you create anything real without failing?
Eventually it sticks or failing to fail will consume any peacocked success (wherefore art thou discovery).
Being humble is apparently recursive.
I may as well own this out loud while I am feeling talkative. When I reconnected with my psychiatrist on Monday, I mentioned to him that I felt I was either asymptotically approaching genius or batshit… and that he could probably tell me which.
It is more difficult to course correct under duress. I would guesstimate a good measure might be to try tugging no harder than you feel like being tugged yourself.
There is this feeling I am chasing that I almost remember connected to this deep exhale I recently performed while taking my blood pressure that released so much tension the machine threw an error.
So, this Cliff… I wonder how understanding a fella he is.
Okay… I guess it is a little weird that I have taken to explaining the difficulty I have getting things out my mouth in the rare face-to-face conversations via the same method my ALP teacher used to demonstrate the observable universe (looking at your desk through a hole in a piece of paper).
If I could name this feeling, I probably would.
I suppose we make better heroes when we can recognize ourselves as villains.
When this rears, I always know where we are in the process because it is always caused by my brain.
Also, congrats, California, on increasing the likelihood I end up returning to inhaling smoke inside my lungs. Assholes.
Sure. Take away my nicotine. Society, you wonder why I hate you?
