No LOL, bad LOL

I miss the written word, not the two hundred and forty some odd characters that is used in today's common interactions. Perhaps it is the romance that language can convey or the imagery we invoke with our thoughts or maybe I'm exhausted from translating text speak / leet speak / abbreviated / shorthand babble. From time to time and in the rush I can see the practicality of it, but for this to be the new common language...

When the processes around me change I accelerate my critical thinking to quickly adapt and overcome the new obstacles or problems presented. It is not lazy or a gift only I can do; we all do it, some faster than others. I understand the why's and how's this came to fruition, and I often scold myself for using it. I even badger myself for using contractions and the over use of them. I know this has to sound like the grammar police in full patrol, but it takes work to keep a diction that is quite extensive; reading, learning, and investing the time in yourself to do more than merely three letters here and two letter replies.

I loathingly abhorred, and rejected  texting upon its birth and even in its infancy. I could see the belligerent path to dumbing down it would take yet not my wails nor my disdain for the abomination would be felt, and I too would succumb.


After rereading the proceeding I realize that I am simply mourning. I greave for a language I know and love and stand by helplessly as she is desecrated until the only thing left is corrupt consonants and offensive vowels. Good bye sweet language. ROFL doesn't have anything on our spiraling on the pavement in cachinnation (SOTPIC...ftw).

The shade of someone else's shadow.

Model, the mold, the example, a replicated positive entity; yet all we are is what we aspire to be.

There are so many expectations that we are predisposed to believing is our burden and our responsibility that we sometimes never leave room for spontaneity.

We are a culture posed to walk the previous line, to mind our manners, respect our predecessors, pay our dues, and for what exactly?

 Lead by example, but whose? It sounds like slaughterhouse mentality of our individuality. This is not a revolt, this is not a revolution against anything other than the process itself, and before I carry on further... I love rules, I'm no anarchist, but I don't desire a future where my impact is the shade of someone else's shadow.

This is not a shot at those that taught us, because I know the regret of their finalized decision, but this is a plea to ourselves to allow the disappointment from their eyes to fall unabashed.

We owe it to ourselves to be the best, to be genuine, and unconventional... They taught us that much, but they are our reigns to take.

Bet you didn't see that coming.

Unexpected conclusions are what? Surprises? Outcomes that we never foresaw? What is it about these experiences that makes us giddy as a child, jubilated, humble, and even embarrassed?

Throughout life we get tossed the proverbial curve ball. An unfamiliar circumstance, some that force us to make decisions, others are made for us, but regardless they are events that catch us off guard.

I began recollecting the ones in my life and concluded that they were actually life altering. Most things have a certain pattern of predictably to them or at least are habitual to an extent and they can be gauged by frequency and quantity, but these rare turn of events are quite amazing. I am unexplainably grateful for these happenings and would not be the same without them.

Get busy living...

Recollecting past times is often an amusing way to catch up with friends, but nostaglia is a dangerous drug. We get caught up reliving years gone by that we fail to make the current time just as memorable.

What if each time we gathered it was a fresh experience? What if the old times weren't the best of times? What if they are yet to come, and here we are huddled together swooning over something that is pale by comparison... We have sixty five thousand square miles to discover and we've just begun! Carpe diem indeed my friends. We only die once.

How do we learn?

What do we learn more from, disappointment or success? In the beginning we plot and plan, formulate and attempt an execution of it. The success of the attempt gives us a measurement, and we reformulate or tweak to correct the mistakes that we made.

Is this the learning curve or when we finally have the finished product and move on the next venture are we then able to say that it was the most valuable? Does the sense of accomplishment and pride or just completion for some, now alter the way or style to which we learn?

 I know both are large factors but I want to quantify which actually has the greatest impact. Perhaps the blog itself will serve this purpose.

Hopeful

Hope. It is the one defining fabric that drives us to the often impossible. Some cling to it, others plan feverishly to never have to need it, but when we all have to have it, our own last resort, we embrace it. Even at the ridiculous, like in the line at the grocery store, I hope I picked the short one, or approaching the light hoping it will not change to red, and least not forget hoping that we left enough time to clock in on-time. It's an amazing thing we do on a daily basis. Is it all just poor planning or are we that desperate?

After all, they are just words...

I often thought of the internet, MySpace, and blogging as a means of selfishness. This has carried on for decades now. It was a means of throwing one's opinion, perspective, or legacy out for display. Like a glorifed popularity event counting counters and checking comments was or is their life. Being a introvert doesn't help with this line of thinking, but it has changed over the last few days.  Before I carry on further, please, those of you who I know prior to this post, please don't think I think less or have thought less of you. You are the most important people in this world, I was generalizing and have to exclude you.

Finally something clicked and said what if no one knows it's you... To keep your anonymity and set free the words. After all, they are just words, but I struggle with that because those words are my thoughts, they are my voice, and I don't share. So who is more selfish?

This was the conundrum I woke up to and glared at as a challenge. With my shield of only a select few knowing who this is, and my shroud of otherwise complete anonymity, it will allow me the liberty to let go of the pent up, garbled randomness and share. I'm not sure how many will care to share garbled randomness... My next question is, with the seven billion people that are in this world, how many of us have thought the same thing?