A lot of my thoughts are over thought. As are a lot of my blogs. Stupid. I think I cured myself from this little disaster about a week ago when I posted: In Architecture a Facade, in Anatomy the Heart.
Something that I'm not in my blogs is myself. I'm not sure why this is because I tend to like myself more than I like other people (which is the whole point behind Jesus saying love your neighbor as yourself).
I was so worried about doing things the right way and not Page's way, which is right, to me. So I've decided to be more myself in my blogging. Which means I'm going to doing a little more:
thinking out loud
and a little less:
weeks between posts
worry about what you'll think of me
I mean if I act like I don't care what you think of me when you're around me, which I don't, why do I care so much of what you think of me in my blogs. I mean for starters I write my blog in word and send it to a friend so she can edit it before I post...and the edits are all grammatical. So I've stopped caring if the things that I write aren't correct. Mainly because I don't care that much anymore. And because. THIS. IS. A. BLOG. which can, in some languages be translated to "A Joke." If I was writing a book or something that I was selling to people I'd give them a little more heed and have someone go over the words and grammar to make it right. But since you little mosquitoes get to suck on my blog for free I'm not going to worry if I mess a verb tense, here, or put a comma in, the wrong place, once and, a while here. I mean come on, we're all native speakers and you can easily comprehend what I'm trying to say. If you can't go read someone's blog that's better than mine.
Which brings me to my next point:
I think all of God's creation is wonderful save these little hellions. You're lying on your bed, or if you're like me, on your box-spring, which is what I've been sleeping on the past month, and you're at peace, about to fall asleep and then...hhuummm...right by your ear. You slap it, thinking I'll kill that little Culicidae (from the Latin culexmeaning midge or gnat) (thanks Wikipedia) and you end up slapping myself, which is exactly what I think that it wants. If you're like me, inpatient to the point of yelling, and waking your roommate up, you have two options.
1) Lie there, contemplate getting up and turning the lights on, but not doing it. Thinking, this gnat might go away if it gets it's fill of my, deliciously, public-spitied, red-cross-called-me-every-month-while-stateside, O negative blood or,
2) Get up and turn on the lights and try to find it, kill it, and smear it's blood (your blood) on the wall as a signal to all the other mosquitoes that you aren't in Peta, and this ain't Disney's The Bugs Life, and will savor ever second killing every single one of their evil brothers and sisters. Throw your hands up in the air in victory, close the window that caused this whole mess in the first place, and try to go back to sleep. With your blood pumping in the chance of the opportunity to do it again.
Last night I did number two. And last night I slept good.
Things to think about:
-Moving out of small town America despite your lack of funds to do so
-What has kept you alive this long in your life?
Things to watch: