Sunday, April 10, 2011

Pointless Blog Surfing

I surf blogs. It makes me feel very good when I see a family where the mom and dad look like they are both good looking enough to deserve each other. And it's a bonus if they have cute kids. But that's because I am incredibly shallow. But you already know that. And if it is a person who is documenting their fight with cancer or the story of how their baby had to have heart surgery, I often go in and say "God Bless You." Or "I hope you are better." Yeah, I need to get a life, but television is like razors in my eyeballs after about fifteen minutes and I am having such a bad agoraphobia attack and so little will power to shrug it off lately, that I cannot get myself to the library. I knew it was getting bad when three different book clubs started sending me boxes of books.

But if the blog is about the person's relationship with Jesus, or God, or The Holy Spirit, I take a pass. I want so bad to go off and say, "This is how God deals with you. This is what God is really thinking." But they won't believe me anyway, and they are just liable to think I am a little nuts. And then if it is about beauty or fashion, OMG. I NEED to read those when I am feeling I lead a shallow useless life. It is incredible.

There is nothing I can do to change the world. I have no influence. I muddle. I err. I live in a fictitious reality. It has no bearing on my life. It has no bearing on anything. It amuses and distracts me. What else is there? That guy (the one we knew, the one you were classmates with his kids?) that spent thousands and thousands of his accidental fortune on those Indians in the jungle in South America? Did he do any GOOD? Did he think he did any good? Will he die feeling like he did his best? I will die thinking "I played the hand I was dealt. I hoed my own row. I made that bed, so I slept in it" . I never won the card game and all my plants died. Well, no. One plant flourished and put all the other plants to shame. So maybe the rest died of shame. But they died. And I have insomnia.


  1. I feel pity for you. But you need to be a brave heart person that is all you need to live a better and happy life on this heaven earth good luck dear.
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  2. Ahh, Anton, darling, don't feel pity for me. I enjoy the living breathing hell out of every moment of suffering that I have to endure. And, frankly, dear Anton, it makes the infrequent moments of pure joy that much more glorious. I like God. He understands me perfectly. We're buds.


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