"..the remedy is the experience,
it's a dangerous liaison,
I say the comedy is that it's serious,
which is a strange enough new play on words.."
it's a dangerous liaison,
I say the comedy is that it's serious,
which is a strange enough new play on words.."
Dear lonely isle,
Some things we give we just can't take back.
Maybe because some things are just too insubstantial to be given or received.
But if we felt it, does it mean that it does exist?
Felt in the sense that we feel with our mental consciousness but we can sense no shape or presense, save the nature of the thing that which we have received. We can perceive hostility, ill-intent, or sometimes joy radiating from a person, but we can neither see it, touch it, feel it or even smell its presence.
Animals are said to be able to smell fear, but probably in the same sense that we are able to see a killing aura, which we can't, not really actually see an aura hovering around a really really really pissed person whom you say, spilt honey on during the trip to the ant farm, by the way.
So how do we feel something as insubstantial as love? Or hate, for that matter.
Are they really all just emotions we conjure in our heads as an explanation of the way we feel towards another person? Or is it something more?
Why do we even feel these terrible things? Hormones?
What drives us, other than the need to propagate our species, to sacrifice and to devote our time, attention and thoughts towards another?
I realise I'm starting to not make much sense again... so just forgive this relapse...
I don't know how this happens. I just start typing with a blank mind, and before I know it, I'm at a point where I don't even know what I'm typing about. So I tend to pretend that I actually know what I'm typing and that I actually intended to type it all along. It's not hard to spot these posts. It's usually things that start with something, and end up as something very different.
It happens all the time, especially when I have nothing particular to blog about, and just felt the need to go bang on the keyboard for awhile. It usually ends up with some crap post that doesn't make sense even to me, and just goes to show that the human brain, when left running idle without much thought processing, will tend to malfunction and spew crap in every direction. Or maybe it's just me. Other people who leave their brains running idle, and let the grey cells direct the fingers across the keyboard probably end up penning "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" or even the "A Brief History of Time". Which just goes to show why I will never make it as an author or will never become a philosophical genius. Everything I say tends to be crap-saturated.
And while most bloggers tend to write beautiful and meaningful posts, I tend towards the nonsensical junk just to fulfill my fingers' need to exercise. And possibly because my mind is always blissfully blank when I start blogging. It's only when I've finished and published the post that I realise the amount of damage I have caused, both to my reputation as a mentally stable person and to other people's perception of me as one. Which I think that with each oncoming post, is eroding their initial view of me as one, and building up the mental barricade that I am certainly not one.
Well, I know your opinion of me is certainly somewhere below ground by now, and hopefully with this post, you will realise that most of this is against my will as my mind does not care much for my reputation, neither does it really give much thought to how people see me and so on henceforth continues to type..
Well, there is only so much crap you can produce in one day, and for this brain, I think today's production is a tad bit lower than normal thanks to the inability and ineffectiveness of this body to recover from fevers fast enough.
So thank you for making it this far.
love, joyce. ('s brain)
Maybe because some things are just too insubstantial to be given or received.
But if we felt it, does it mean that it does exist?
Felt in the sense that we feel with our mental consciousness but we can sense no shape or presense, save the nature of the thing that which we have received. We can perceive hostility, ill-intent, or sometimes joy radiating from a person, but we can neither see it, touch it, feel it or even smell its presence.
Animals are said to be able to smell fear, but probably in the same sense that we are able to see a killing aura, which we can't, not really actually see an aura hovering around a really really really pissed person whom you say, spilt honey on during the trip to the ant farm, by the way.
So how do we feel something as insubstantial as love? Or hate, for that matter.
Are they really all just emotions we conjure in our heads as an explanation of the way we feel towards another person? Or is it something more?
Why do we even feel these terrible things? Hormones?
What drives us, other than the need to propagate our species, to sacrifice and to devote our time, attention and thoughts towards another?
I realise I'm starting to not make much sense again... so just forgive this relapse...
I don't know how this happens. I just start typing with a blank mind, and before I know it, I'm at a point where I don't even know what I'm typing about. So I tend to pretend that I actually know what I'm typing and that I actually intended to type it all along. It's not hard to spot these posts. It's usually things that start with something, and end up as something very different.
It happens all the time, especially when I have nothing particular to blog about, and just felt the need to go bang on the keyboard for awhile. It usually ends up with some crap post that doesn't make sense even to me, and just goes to show that the human brain, when left running idle without much thought processing, will tend to malfunction and spew crap in every direction. Or maybe it's just me. Other people who leave their brains running idle, and let the grey cells direct the fingers across the keyboard probably end up penning "Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone" or even the "A Brief History of Time". Which just goes to show why I will never make it as an author or will never become a philosophical genius. Everything I say tends to be crap-saturated.
And while most bloggers tend to write beautiful and meaningful posts, I tend towards the nonsensical junk just to fulfill my fingers' need to exercise. And possibly because my mind is always blissfully blank when I start blogging. It's only when I've finished and published the post that I realise the amount of damage I have caused, both to my reputation as a mentally stable person and to other people's perception of me as one. Which I think that with each oncoming post, is eroding their initial view of me as one, and building up the mental barricade that I am certainly not one.
Well, I know your opinion of me is certainly somewhere below ground by now, and hopefully with this post, you will realise that most of this is against my will as my mind does not care much for my reputation, neither does it really give much thought to how people see me and so on henceforth continues to type..
Well, there is only so much crap you can produce in one day, and for this brain, I think today's production is a tad bit lower than normal thanks to the inability and ineffectiveness of this body to recover from fevers fast enough.
So thank you for making it this far.
love, joyce. ('s brain)
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