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2004-09-26 - 7:28 p.m. choices are we (humanity) truly a species who's primary drive is to fit in, to be accepted, to please others and be liked (or loved)?>.. and in this question, are we plagued (or cursed) by some secret desire to be an individual, to be unique, to be special?... and yet, is the deeper hunger to be recognized and appreciated and loved and adored and even worshipped (or at least respected) for our uniqueness?... and does that not contradict the whole point of fitting in and... and... the whole point of life? (or is it just to conform, imitate, be chameleons?... if that's the case, why aren't we green? (and why do we have brains?)... are we so stupid (or afraid) that we ignore the fact that we have a choice, that every action we take (every move we make) is a decision we make in our minds (conscious or not)?... are we so afraid of the responsibility of this truth that we deny it, oppose it even, and demand conformity as a way of validating the ignorance we choose rather than facing and dealing with our fears?... or is it responsibility we are avoiding?... how often do you hear, "she wouldn't let me..." or "he made me feel..." as an explanation for unhappiness or something that went wrong?... how often have you started a sentence that way?... excuse me, Rasputin woke up and came out to fart around... no kidding, he's been farting for twenty minutes and his stinking up the living room is distracting me... does your roommate do that?... I mean, on fart and an excuse me and then go to the bathroom if you've obviously got to go (or at least have gas), but no... Raspy let loose with a half dozen already as he sits here eating pizza... I think his nose is not working, and his selective eyesight and hearing is turned on as well (as usual) as he is so oblivious to the mess he leaves everywhere, the crumbs he brushes off onto the floor (he seldom eats with a plate or napkin)... and I doubt he reads this diary, though he really oughta (and he and Precious both have the address, not to mention access to the computer and therein, the account here at DLand... maybe they'll surprise me and write a guest entry all about my faults one of these days... but then, given the lack of conscious awareness of surroundings, I wonder if they'd even notice... meanwhile, he just keeps on farting... so did he just make me lose my train of thought?... did he just make me feel dirty or stinky or frustrated or upset or anything?... obviously, he, his gas, and the timing (the universe provides) had a lesson for us today... of course he did not make me do anything (though I did choose to wave a magazine in his direction and encourage him to go sit on the toilet for a few minutes, but I could have chosen not to do that)... and since I chose to be in a very good place in my head (after all, I am still just sitting here listening to ice cream creatures and I was when he inspired the title of the previous entry because the complete thought was I was just sitting here listening to ice cream creatures when Rasputin came out of his room to fart, but there was so much more rambling through my brain than the auditory and olfactory input from his anus that I decided to let other words flow and leave his distraction for now)... and in the end, choices are all there is...
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