Thursday, September 29, 2011

Chicken Soup For Eleanor Rigby's Soul

More and more events tell me to walk away.  Use the laptop for finding a job and walk away from the rest of it.

This will not have a happy ending if you don't, Jo.  It won't be if you do, either.

I love writing.  Is there a way to write and save someone else's soul?  Or am I the perpetual child, the one who saw an optical illusion in the media and started to protest a supposed mirage?

I have two default modes:  humor and finding patterns in the cosmos.  Both require a great deal of trust in myself.  Trust erodes when pieces add up.

I don't think I need to walk away.  I think I need to set up rules for my own internet use.  And then walk away from what I don't understand and what makes me feel like Forrest Gump at the prom.

My anger is aimed at me, folks.  This over-exposure to a media outlet that is not the solution is my fault for painting it to my mind as a box to fight my way out of.  Read.  Respond.  The nature of the response is about to change.


This guy saved my soul tonight.  I'm not alone.

Write on.

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