Thursday, August 18, 2016


Webster's defines "opening sentence of a blog post" as "a line which is difficult to write so you resort to the embarrassing 'Webster's defines...' opening." Who is this Webster asshole anyway and what makes him assume he and Merriam are the experts on words? Okay, I just got back from doing a little research on Merriam and Webster and it turns out Merriam is not one person, but two brothers (George and Charles) and that Noah Webster was actually a kinda cool dude. He was opposed to slavery and a bit of a freethinker. A bit. But a bit is better than not at all. And why the hell am I going on and on about Merriam-Webster? Yet again, I've wasted both my time and yours.

"Time you enjoy wasting is not wasted time." The formerly all-knowing Internet credits that quote to about a billion different people, from Bertrand Russell to John Lennon. I'm sure somewhere someone credits it to Mr. Noah "Not an Asshole" Webster as well. I already wasted my time reading the Wikipedia pages for the Merriams and Webster, so NO WAY am I going to get to the bottom of this who-actually-said-it mystery. Not right now. I will later. Later when I am wide awake until 3am for no apparent reason, yet too drained to read a book or be "productive" in any way. Yes, I spend the hours while the rest of the world/house is sleeping in the deep abyss of screens. Is it possible to be in different abysses at the same time? I am lost in television while also lost in the Internet, both in an attempt to not get lost in head. Sometimes I need a break from being in my head. Sometimes I need to step out and step down into the abysses. Abyssi?

I actually did have an idea for something I wanted to write today. I wanted to write about how I feel so crummy. Not all the time, no. But the past few days I have just been feeling and acting crummy. Noah defines "crummy" as, well, I don't know how he defines it. But I define it as reacting over and over and over again to any slight or imagined trigger rather than calmly and mindfully responding to it. The reactions are never good, never helpful. Reactions are mere walls and armor where walls and armor are not needed. What's usually needed in these situations is space and openness and vulnerability. And compassion. Always, always compassion. I can't stress it enough just how vital compassion is to all of our lives. So I can't stress it enough, but do I live it enough? Or at all? Sometimes it doesn't seem like it. And for that I sincerely apologize.

Who am I apologizing to? I could list off at least three dozen names. But would my name be one of those dozens? Probably not. I am an afterthought to myself, which is probably the root of all this crumminess. Can one be simultaneously self-obsessed and self-loathing? Because that's how Webster would define me.

But I have the power to change this definition. All I have to do is write my own definition and paste it over the old one. Nothing in life is permanent, not even definitions, not even words, not even crummy feelings and crummy actions. Words and actions, however, hold consequences. I am beginning to sound like a moralistic asshole, so I'll stop. I don't feel as though I quite finished my thought(s), but that's okay -- it'll just give me something meaty to think about tonight before I select my abyss of choice. Thanks for listening/reading/scoffing. Wait, not scoffing. Stop scoffing. It's crummy. (But you aren't. You are more than okay. I promise.)

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