An android is a handheld external replacement of a brain which humans (way back in mid-evil primitive stages of existence; mind you…) were at one point able to remote access (really, seriously, we were at one time able to do this strange hard-wired process of functioning and male-functioning without a power cord attached--creepy-craziness I know, but this occurred back in the “Once upon a time, times”).
On an android you can receive a bonus feature of numerous instant friends or cellular droids that can…via computer or phone text you numerous brain-farts daily and, perhaps if you’re really lucky a droid companion will benefit you by stroking your ego with a few impersonal superficial comments sent exclusively to you and ¾ of the currently existing population of the world in a mass sending…cool, huh? Weren’t computer supposed to be doing all the crap jobs by now? What happened?
When we tweet on twitter should we be held accountable? The nature of gossip is that words change until concepts are distorted…to spread the good word. In Beber fever, if Justin is having a cup of tea (a basic necessity is being fulfilled because we can not live one day without fluids): one person who hears him says that Justin is using a tea bag to make tea, the next twitter changes this message to “He’s teabag gin” (which is now a male-adjusted abnormal sexual misconduct, implying de-gradorial viewpoints and depictions of females, and demonstrates behavior which is generally frowned on by civilian society. Justin’s moral values are now in question amongst the mass-communication of multi-media because he was thirsty.
If one types “sexting” not “texting” do we hang him? Why would civilized people check to see intent or motive in another when there’s a potential scandal at hand? Could we form a more skewered depiction of circumstances for our own entertainment--then bashing another? Why would we take the time to learn about another’s perspective, via skills? Why should anyone spend time asking: “what did you mean” or “what was meant by” or “what do you think this individual was thinking about…”.
We could spend our idleness asking each other “how we felt when…” or “how can we learn not to make a similar mistake in our own lives, now that we’ve seen this example of miscommunication?” We could aspire to proof read our own writing and consider what’s actually there (not what’s intended to be there) before we ship a text off to ½ the planet for a potentially embarrassing harassment on the part of others. Accusations suck! We need to be as literal as possible. Acceptance of others and patience may be in order: “Judged as you will have yourself judged”. There is a lot to be learned in life, if only we are willing.
I liked personal interaction better, honestly! But if forced, I will retreat to a world of wonder--for the world is wonderful in the introspections of the introvert. This time alone is allotted for recovery; they say that I am the key to my own successful healing, ya know? I love people though…I wish I could step up once again (or at least out my door…seclusion sucks!) to the perils of the outside world. I am attentive, dutiful and responsible if I would be given a chance. I thoroughly enjoy hugs and kisses and affection… but sometimes I need to go off because people are acting too meanly, for my taste.
Stress taxes my reserves and my mind-body-spirit feel as though they’re breaking down. I need an imperative. I see the transporting locomotive of America around me…and, it’s going no where fast. It’s loud and it’s burning the fuel at the expense of others (it’s own people often suffer). Is this progress…“Progressive thinking”, you say? I wonder…
I see fickle fans on TV. A person flashes saying, “the cream rises to the top”-- but so does the scum. How can we preserve career hood if it doesn’t require the perseverance of learning a skill? Mastery is a forgotten art, the forger shows it in his every action (play on Lao Tsung) for he spends him effort making himself appear more competent then he is.
In boxing no one liked me; but when I won something strange happened, people wanted my autograph. They screamed that I was an arrogant showboat--not caring to know me--and didn’t care that I had put my time in the gym learning. I had a socially obtained strength and significantly fought with others to see the poetry in motion… the fine art and skill of a thinking mans game. I asked others to “Stand by Me” as I played this song to enter the ring.
The arena is structured by organized rules of conduct. There will be no fowl play with un-sportsman like gestures; a ref reinsures this. Fighters intent is contracted thoroughly and all intentions are clearly stated and understood. There will be no tolerance of anger or violence when two equal high-level athletes participate in willful, playful interaction. Sparring spans the gaping void of boredom, learning technique and applying a controlled force of combat. We perform for others like actors, trying our best and being professional (not showing pain when an unfortunate mishap occurs) for our audience. We train so there is no harm done to our bodies, we release our passion in motion. Fighters redirect natural courses of mind over matter, we dictate the responses of our bodies at will. “Survival of the fittest”--we “box like heaven but fight like hell” because destruction is not our goal…interaction is.
Mankind needs positive reinforcements in life... when appropriatly distributed. Is it so hard to say you did something good? Every night I state before I bed down: do I have any “questions, comments or gripes”(Joe Bacchus). What do I believe was the good, the bad and the ugly of the day…I question myself before I resume to the calm of sleep. Each day is complete in my mind, so my dreams are not haunted by insecurities. I have periods of standby and resuming of activity in my life. I acquiesce by quieting my mind.
I can move freely across the spectrum of my existence… past, present and future. I always maintain the lessons that I’ve learned in the here and now and can look back reevaluating the conditions of experiences prior. I like to get a fresh view, a new scope of things that have disturbed me in the past, so I reiterate from time to time…without obsessing. I accept the bad as a single behavior not condemn the human being as a whole. I can be upset at the action which harms--not imposing a will on another Gestalt sentient being.
I rally against putting the living in a box of absolutes. I question to reach a greater accuracy--dialectics sometimes is necessary if I suspect a distorted grounds. I want to see as many others views as I possibly can in my lifetime--that is an obsessive but intoxicating goal.
A fan clears the air with my Further Confessions:
I know that I’m nervous and overwhelming. I’m anxious and my speech can be rapid, pressured and overpowering. I’m annoying and talk too much. Paranoid and always wrong, I need to retreat back to the confines of my solitude. I’m a problem. Talking to a person a day for a couple of hours is beyond excessive and I need to back off. Even when I retreat for a couple of days or a week w/out conversation I still can’t control my desire to converse excessively when I get scared. I blab too much and because of my weaknesses I annoy my mom and Rogers. I need to recede, and restore in seclusion my sense of quiet.
I want to embody the sacraments. I have surrendered completely, not only in my thoughts, but also in my actions. I do not want to fall out of favor of the Lord, for I have taken him into my heart… I have sought guidance. I Love, so please pray for me. A war raged in my soul, passion gripped me in my spiritual journey. Engaged in a steadfast walk of God, I find the stumbling block of my own sin. I am the author of my own missing of the mark, hardened by a pain, God refused to speak to me. Even with a fellowship of the chosen people, a reverence so powerful as inquiry is condemned. I am a heretic cloaked clinging to a holdfast Will of Love. Holy spirit, I only know you through the patience of man.
Deeply rooted is the sty that blinds my spiritual eye. Forgive me…I am very distressed… When you is what you is, you aren’t what you ain’t!
The irony of miscommunication can be impressive upon the minds of man. Nietzsche proclaimed: “God was Dead” (laughed first and sure was laughing). Years later, God proclaimed: “Nietzsche was dead, any questions?”(although He got the last laugh, no one was left on the Earth to hear Him--so, it doesn’t count!) Point being: Nietzsche won, he was right!
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