An iPhone box. Hand sanitizer. A clip of three of my business cards. Burt's Bees lip balm. A bag of personalized guitar picks with my son's face on them. A FedEx branded chocolate mint. A SanDisk 2GB memory card. A 2010 nickel. An Eric Karros Upper Deck rookie card.
These are all items sitting in a cubby hole. The cubby hole is part of my wife's computer desk. The computer desk houses the computer upon which I type this blog post. The blog post is part of the internet. I'm not sure where that progression was going, but it appears to have gone to wherever that is.
Unrelated items? Yeah. Or maybe not so unrelated.
After all, they occupy the same space now. They're all neighbors. Some of the items are touching. I'm sure some of the items were probably manufactured in the same country.
They all cost money. To produce. To purchase. They're all commodities. Well, except the nickel. But isn't money a commodity nowadays, too?
Why am I writing about items on a desk? Am I that lazy? Or am I that genius...?
Unrelated and unimportant and uninteresting are the new related, important, and interesting, are they not? If they're not, they should be. Because I say so.
It's a pattern, you know. Starting with some sort of vague intention and then devolving into a nonsensical BLob Of Gibberish. You're frustrated. You're annoyed. You're bored. Reading what you've written has made you bored. Listening to the songs you've written... bored. Or unintentionally entertained because you're biased. Bias is not good. Bias blinds you...
Bias can blind you
Especially when you are
Creator and crowd
Why do you like haikus so much? Because they're easy? You like a lot of things that are easy, don't you? Don't you ever want to push yourself? Don't you ever want to set out to do something where you expect to fail... so you can prove that expectation wrong? Aren't you capable of that? Can you answer that question without pushing yourself to that uncomfortable place? Is this paragraph of questions Socratic or another symptom of you liking things that are easy...?
Pretentious. Lable this... pretentious...
I used the French spelling of label because I'm feeling cultured tonight. Fine dining at classy joints can do that to a man... make him feel cultured.
I figured it out. Why this blog feels forced. It's because I can't see the ending. Because I couldn't see the beginning, and the middle is definitely out of sight. Because I can't see the moves. Am I even making moves or am I just treading water, waiting for a lifeboat, taking in water and gasping for air and endlessly moving my arms and legs to barely keep afloat.
I need to learn the moves. Which I guess is the whole point of this blog, this job, this life.
I just wonder... when do you stop learning and start doing?
All this from items on a desk? Am I that lazy? Or am I that... genius...?