Ramble On

(Sing my song.)

I started to write something else but stopped because I am not in the mood for organized thought.

Sometimes I feel like the more I learn the less I know. I think that growing up I always had very definitive and steadfast resolutions on how things should be, how things will be. Now, grown up, I realize that there is so little that I know for sure, that the very concept of how things should be is inherently incorrect in and of itself and that how things will be is like a question with no answer.

This feels like regression but perhaps it is progress.

I am painting on a blank canvas but despite the palette of color in hand, the brush paints nothing but gray. Gone are black and white. Red. Blue. Orange. Green. Burnt Sienna.

Everything is muddled. Nothing is defined. Someone get me a coloring book, STAT. And a mojito.

It's so easy to define people by the mistakes they make without ever really giving thought to why they've made them in the first place. Why do we do this? And by "we," I mean "I." I am learning not to do this.

I am also learning to use words like never and always less, or maybe not at all, because the statements that contain them will, more likely than not, one day become falsities. You never know where circumstance will lead you.

Sometimes I am pleasantly surprised. Also, I want my superpower to be the ability to see into someone's soul with one glance. Cavernous depths. Shallow pitfalls. The Mariana Trench. Yea. Totes.

I just listened to the same piece of classical music 25 times. I could've listened 25 more.