Correlations and Kittens

Every time you masturbate God kills a kitten.
I'll be honest, it's been a massacre.

But do you think these two are related, or was it just that the relative average of kitten-killing to masturbation was pretty similar? Do they have to be happening because of the other?
Let us say that there are a billion ant deaths a day, and a billion footsteps made.
Or ten spiders become human sized a year, and ten new politicians come to power.
You see what I mean? Connections are only as strenuous as we are willing to allow them.

I set rules to go by, not always strict and not always difficult, and they create interesting dynamics. Most of all are when I break a rule, whether I am breaking a moral or simply making a choice. What difference does it make?

It doesn't, normally.

But sometimes I can't help but wonder if there are correlations between breaking a rule and a personal tragedy. A family misfortune and a morality destroyed.

If I set myself a goal and purposefully stray (fail) then am I doing something wrong? I mean that in the sense of judgement. Does it change who I am as a person? I suppose it does. I mean, surely it shows a weak persona if I cannot stick to a plan.

Finally, if you are punished (or feel that the event post-failure is connected to you) then does that mean you have taken the pain and are now back to neutral ground? How long can you hold a mistake in limbo for?

And how many more kittens are going to die without evidence to whether it was a selfish man's fault?

Inside The Joke

Have you ever told an inside joke to the wrong group of people?
Have you ever told the start of a story to one and the end to another in the hopes that one day they will meet and correlate their parts to create a whole?
Lay the seeds of a tale and hope it blossoms into something greater than itself. Create a challenge in completion and there will be an appreciation stronger felt than if it were linear and singular.

Perhaps it's nonsense, but there's a symbolic feeling to telling the wrong thing to the wrong people. They don't acknowledge anything special, they don't even realise you were speaking a double-entendre. But you know. Which means it happened. It allows you (and often only you) to acknowledge that the world is definitely bigger than the conversation you are encompassing, because where did that joke come from if not from these people? It's a small and meaningless method of internal complexity, I suppose.

Sometimes it is comforting believing in something that isn't there.

Crowding Voices

I don't know what's lonelier. Having very few people to truly talk to, or feeling like everyone around you is so tightly connected and you are somehow consistently out of the loop.

I can look at you and have a conversation with you, and of course this is great, but hidden between the silences are glances at a mobile phone, holding multiple stray conversations that may mean more to you than the person standing in your vicinity.

Our importance is never quite set out in an obvious manner. Our relevance to others can be so variable - oh, my best friend just logged in, this is important, bare with me.

How long have we been straying from reality to talk closer to the screen, our focus diluted by simultaneous yet absurdly contrasting conversations. I could be breaking up with someone whilst quoting TV shows to someone else. I could be telling jokes to one and laying shit down to another.

Our social webs are becoming ever so intricate. I think this is what scares me, really. I don't know what to trust at face level when there is no face to perceive. I want to know where I stand in someone's eyes. I want to know that I am not just a distraction, or that I am not just an obstacle standing in the way of something else. Someone else.

I am not naive enough to think this sort of social complication is new. But it is current. We can be holding a private message, a public post, and a face-to-face all at the same time, and from there you have to wonder where our attention is lying, and whether attention means the same as it used to.

We'll Skype now, it's free, but you are not looking my way, you're fiddling with something, typing something out (but not to me, we are speaking through microphones) and I'm halfway through what I thought was an interesting anecdote but I can see you don't really know what I'm saying as I purposefully misspoke several times and there is no indication of any recognition of the humorous parts. Perhaps I am not funny. Perhaps I hold no interest.

I am fully aware that to hold attention is a harder thing now, I can hardly keep my own eyes focused on something that interests me, but people should still be given full attention - while we still make the effort to look each other in the eye, we need to keep this going.

Online gaming has allowed 'hang out' to mean speaking over the internet while pressing endless combinations of buttons. Befriending has meant following an online persona.

It would just be nice to know that there is a feeling of uniqueness, and not of being one in a mass crowd vying for attention. We shouldn't have to fight to be heard. Our voices shouldn't be shouting so loudly, as noise increases noise.

Maybe there is a point here being missed altogether. Perhaps we just need to slow down and take a look around, find out who we really should be speaking to. Who means a lot to you? Let them know.

It's not about speaking to as many people as possible. It's not about spreading your connections as far as you can. It should be about the group of people close to you, that stir you.

We should not be representing our online personas. We should be representing an organic individual. Computers can make hundreds of connections with little thought, we should be focusing on the few that matter.

Sidelining Sanity

Just write. Do the bidding of others.
Take orders. Listen intently. Forget your own existence.
Live to serve. Become whatever is needed of you. Shape not to your environment, but to your exterior group of souls.
You are a fluid state with no solid reason unto yourself, so become whatever others want.
Personality? Another word for a belief that we stay the same. We are always different, to each and every other. A parent gets a different treatment than a stranger would, a lover something that an ordinary friend won't see. So how can your personality be anything but a ruse?
So do what you're told and see what it makes you. Live the lives of others and pray that you get to understand something.

Where does this leave us? Nowhere. You can't take orders and be done with it. To make everything work we have to share our lot of requests out to others. Give, give, give. Take, take, take. Don't forget the incessant tug of war we play.

If you are tired and cannot be bothered to do something, are you sure you are tired? Are you sure your body isn't making excuses in itself? Empty the bin. But why? I can't be bothered, I'm currently doing less than nothing and will continue to do so for at least an hour. The bin will take three minutes as a slow, sluggish movement. But those are three minutes on a path that I had not charted out myself. They go against whatever plan I had initially anticipated.

Oh woe is me. What does any of this mean? It means that I am tired, and my mind is not.

The bin doesn't need emptying for now, but if you don't mind fitting it into your schedule later...

Singing Too Deep

Everyone wants to tell their sad song. I'm noticing that people want to tell their story to each other, but of course not every story is worth hearing, and not each is sad. But they want to show their cloudy rainbow of emotion.
I am stood listening to a girl sing an original that you can tell means something to her, but she also wants it to mean something to us. And it does. I can feel it, the angst and the lost hope. I want to tell mine, as I feel we all do, but I don't feel it to be necessary for everyone to hear it. Her playing as smoothly and singing as roughly as she does, breaking notes for dramatic purpose, holding others to elongate the turmoil held within. She makes me want to learn an instrument. I want the eloquence of song to put forth my tales. It seems so easy when she does it.
I could marry her and we could have a creative life together, I write my things, she hers and then we use our work as a collaboration. A beautiful future of corresponding emotions. But I wonder if others think of this, too. Maybe not, maybe the thoughts of her are different with others.
She sings a cover, I can hear the same feeling. Does it mean the same to her? I can feel it but this isn't one of hers.
Everyone wants to tell their sad story, strangers - when opening up - will mention the fact that they suffer from depression "Just a minor case," of course. We all do. Without our depressions we couldn't thrive to be as good as we can be.
I don't know. Perhaps it is not my place to discredit depressions. Perhaps I just don't want others to feel more than myself. Is it resent, or jealousy? Am I scared that I won't be as deep if others feel such dark depths, too? I'm not sure. I get tired of this talk of depression. It's tiring. It's aimless and so far doesn't get terribly far. It's self-indulgent. I don't like talking about how great I am. Not directly, certainly. I would rather get the point across in a subtle sweep of modesty and self-congratulation.
I'm drunk. Going nowhere. But heading somewhere.
A point? A reason? A triumph!
I am twiddling my thumbs in a new productive way this evening. I'm hoping to finish out somewhere new. I'm thinking of things afresh.
It doesn't matter whether I am actually doing something, but if my thumbs are twiddling in a meaningful way, perhaps that is enough.
Perhaps. Enough is enough. I wait for the future. Simultaneously I head towards it.
Your life is what you take and what you get, it is everything and it is anything you want it to be. If you want meaning, make sure you know how to present it.
I want to feel what you do.