There is this . . . thing, idea, philosophy, or what-not that I hold . . . no . . . cling to, for better or worse, and I do this because today, tonight, this morning, whatever it may be . . . that’s all I have. You see, as silly and untrue as it may be, I believe everything is going to be all right. Along with this belief, I have this one hope. I hope the Astrologists have a more solid handle on ultimate truth than anybody else, as that would amuse me to no end, and then I would know, beyond merely believing, that everything is going to be all right.
I am at any given moment only half serious, if any seriousness at all is emanating from my being, and I believe life, time, the universe, everything, etc. flows in interesting and complex paths, currents if you will, and if you can manage to find one of these paths, life, well, goes a lot smoother than if you were to, say, paddle up stream . . . for lack of a better metaphor. I tend to ramble when I talk and bounce from situation to situation with a lack of judgment, often mistaken for apathy, but really it’s just unadulterated acceptance for life, which I love. Now there are those that argue that I am quite deliberate, and scarily so, but I personally don’t see it. I follow the path, and the current does all the work. Besides, deliberate people know what they want to do for the rest of their lives. They have plans, maps, mission statements, and other largely depressing motifs. I have . . . a cheap straw hat that I wear on long trips. I call it my traveling hat, and this mystifies my friends and family, because all the other days of the year it functions solely as a festive storage bin for my keys and wallet. See, they don’t understand why I think this hat is such an amazingly good idea. But I do think it’s a good idea, and this, above all else (even my silent yet feverish rooting for the Astrologists), keeps my sane.
No, I am not deliberate. Allegedly deliberate, maybe, but definitely not certainly deliberate. And this, to meander with a little more alacrity to my point, stems from my core belief that everything is going to be all right. One way or another, in this life or any ascertained sequels, everything is going to be all right. And when I proclaim this to anyone who might or might not be listening, it spews from my mouth with the sort of absolute conviction that bends reality to my will . . . as non-deliberately as possible.
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