Ah, so I missed the actual ‘fortnight’ anniversary of DocuDharma. A little late, a little short on content (you’ll see)…yeah, that’s kinda my m.o. Things get sticky when people actually expect things like punctuality and substance from you. Write that down. You’ll be glad later that you knew it.
But in the spirit of the now days-old DocuDharma tradition, I’m expressing myself freely in essay form (notice how I discreetly draw your attention to my form?). Sure, I could choose another fine essay (as there are so many) that discusses the topic or topics I’d like to cover, and leave my paltry insights there, in comment form. But that’s soooo ‘done’, y’know?
And I won’t lie to you. I lie awake in bed at night desperately hoping, beyond hope, that I haven’t disappointed my fellow ‘duds’ (that’s what I’m calling us until someone comes up with a consensus nickname) by withholding the imaginings of my beautiful mind. Have I, by stilling my fingers and holding my tongue, left 850 (give or take) people…fellow humans…wondering where my thoughts have been? Yearning to know my definitive and original opinion on some minute detail contained in some obscure news story about a guy whom I don’t know who did something that didn’t directly affect me to someone else I’ve never heard of for some unclear reason? That’s certainly not indicative of my commitment to this community, or of my desire to fulfill the wants and needs of my fellow ‘duds’. But, being an error that’s easily rectified, I immediately conceived of ‘project rectify’, wherein my inner dialog could be laid out for mutual enjoyment.
So my decision to put my thoughts into words and write an essay was actually a pretty easy one. As a matter of fact, I decided to do it a few days ago. It was really sunny, and it was warm. I had such sunny and warm thoughts that day that I really didn’t think black-and-whitefying them was such a great strategy. I felt, nay, knew, that any attempt on my part to convey such sunniness and warmth through letters and punctuation marks, no matter how italicized (and, let me tell you…I can italicize with the best of them) would cheapen the sentiment, and cheat you, my dear reader, of the opportunity to be sunned and warmed. I couldn’t, in good conscience, type such an offense.
As the days passed since the decision, my thoughts have become increasingly cloudier, colder. I realized that I had missed an opportunity to share with the world the sun and warmth of a beautiful mind. Opportunities are like tomatoes. When you look upon them collectively, red and shiny, they look great. But committing to one…well…let’s just say that each thought I might have shared since the sunny and warm decision day has been squishier and more mottled than the last. Thoughts you wouldn’t buy to cook with, much less serve up on a plate, or essay, to 850 (give or take) of your newest best friend-like ‘duds’. You, my dear reader, deserve better. And I am determined to give it to you.
In the meantime, my thoughts, those pesky thoughts, decided that a beautiful mind was a wonderful thing to waste….or lay to waste…or something like that. They were tripping over each other to assert themselves, and I may have misunderstood their ramblings. Or was that me rambling? And how would one know the difference, anyway?