It starts in a similar fashion each time the wires get to crackling with the thoughts jumping out again. Popping out from behind the corner, and at every corner, we are bombarded with distractions from within. These internal distractions are detrimental to the train of action that was taking place. The moment doesn't need analysis. Does a sunset need a thought to be beautiful? Does a rose depend on my thoughts to be beautiful? Do I depend on my thoughts to be beautiful?

The shortest answer is, yes. How do I feel about the realization that my thoughts betray me and sway me to such a degree? I'm not pleased to learn of it, but I am pleased to have learned of it. Shit, we're doing some fucking learning, that shit's hard.

Fuck the thoughts and the feelings that have to date successfully disrupted my course. Hmm... I can say these things, and saying them is a good first step, or second step. Back to that everything is created twice theory, first created in the mind, and then created in the world. These words were created in my mind, and I am in the process of creating in the world. The first step happens quickly, the second step happens slowly.

I am beginning correctly by thinking, writing, and then doing. I would venture to say "correctly" is redundant in this context because the correctness is in the beginning (purposefully vague because it has two applicable meanings).

The writing is now, but when is the doing? That's where I've been missing the mark. The doing is the only part that matters. Physically being in the world and making things happen. Sometimes I toil away alone for days to be prepared to reveal to the world what I've created. This blog-thing is a good example. Nobody is reading this shit because it barely exists on the internet, and nobody knows it exists (actually, 3 people + me), only one of those people actually reads this shit, and I know because they told me so. Shoutout Homie!

It's really a shame. It's a bummer, in fact. (new stuff, no relation to prior thoughts). Friends. We don't grow together, same direction. This can make for distanced relationships and threadbare connection, no more than a distant memory of that one time with... what was their name?? Oh yeah, I remember now. This ain't no place to be. This ain't no place I wanna go. Guess I fucked that up. Been there, got that t-shirt, and it's threadbare.

There was that one girl who stayed at my place for a week straight, after our second date... Yeah... On the seventh day, I asked her when she was going home, maybe she needed clothes. Tat girl broke down in tears and yelled at me for not caring about her and kicking her out, she fell hard. But I don't think that's true; she didn't fall for me, she's crazy LOL. She left, and we stayed in touch for a little bit. She did meet another guy a couple weeks later, and she moved in with him, and then she got pregnant by him. Dodged a fucking bullet on that one!! That girl was trying to get me wrapped up in this bullshit. No babies for me lady, and that shit was years ago, in other cities and houses. That may have been the longest that a girl has lived with me. I am thinking back, and I can only remember times of lesser duration. 3 days or 5 days tops. That cruise was 4 nights (different story, but a damn good one, kinda reminds me of that recent convertible encounter, very loosely similar). There's a lot I don't know that I will learn one day. How do I live with people? (reading that question in isolation has a completely different connotation lol)

That's not the point of this exercise. I do wonder if I could tell good stories. I would only feel comfortable writing stories after writing a few. It's not true that you need to read to be a good writer, you must write to be a good writer, the reading helps, words.

I have been called a lot of things, I was called the devil and a black cloud and pure evil. I disagree and shrugged those hyperbolic descriptors, water-on-ducks kinda thing. I have also been accused of showing disrespect, and this is sometimes true. Lady told me one time that I needed to change my attitude and show respect; my response could have truthfully been that I did show everyone respect, except her. I was also accused of belittling, and for that I had no intention to do. I jokingly made comments, and the comments were interpreted in a way that diverged from its intention. I apologized and corrected myself; that female author has a name, and I will not take that away from her with anything dismissive.

We really don't have that many words going here. Not a lot of thinking today folks, but there has been a lot of learning.

This is Learning Made Hard.