Deciphering underwater messages through the bathtub telephone


When child I had many strange beliefs. I suppose nothing much has changed since then. For example, I believe that sharing our stories of struggle and triumph is a good thing, however, I have run into people who have questioned my sanity when it comes to sharing the details of my life. I suppose, those people seem as strange to me as I seem to them. I think they're strange because I don't see the point of hiding things unless they will get you in trouble or get someone else in trouble. If the story does not caused harm to others and if it is the truth, then I don't see the point of hiding it. I believe that keeping everything inside and walking through life pretending opens the door to all kinds of psychological ailments. If we share our stories, we may find that more of us have things in common and we can perhaps find the courage to overcome our own difficulties or find joy in celebrating each other’s triumphs. Of course, the cynics and the critics feel the opposite. They would say to me that it is not cool to have other people all up in their business. I respect that opinion because each person should decide what to do with the details of their own life. If someone wants to hide away so as not to crack the shiny veneer their façade, then that is their right and privilege to do so. Although I do not understand it, as much they don’t understand me, I would never say a negative word or criticize those individuals.


These stories that I've been sharing over the past couple of hundred days are simply thoughts that have been going through my head. In the words of Shakespeare's character Falstaff, they are air and nothing more. Actually, they are pixels on the screen which form words as representations of fleeting ideas and memories. I'm repeating myself from previous posts but, if my opinion does not agree with your opinion well it should stand to reason because we are different people. If you decide to tell me your story I will listen. If you decide to hide it away I will not pry it out of you. I would wait for the day when you change your mind or take solace in the fact you are living life as you've chosen.


It's all stream of consciousness. The ideas come into my mind and there they fly as I dictate these words to my computer. She's a stubborn old thing that is sometimes hard of hearing. It's funny because the computer is kind of a metaphor for human beings. When I speak to her, she writes down everything she thinks I said, however, every other sentences has a word that has been misheard and so the meaning skews a bit from my original intent. To tell you the truth, I think it's fascinating and adds new elements to the story. I am telling the tale, but the computer has interpreted it then retold it to you.


Whenever you tell a story to people, they do the same thing the computer does. They hear or read what they want and then they change things to fit their understanding of the world. All of our literature does that and so social media. When we see people's lives on social media, we only get a small representation of who that person is and then we construct our own mental image. One of the funny things about social media is that oftentimes when you actually meet a person from there in real life, they are not quite what you expected them to be. Also, if you have a friend you haven't seen in years that you keep in contact with on social media, you may find yourself taken aback by that person when you finally meet them again. That's how the mind works. We construct meaning that has been extrapolated from external information and processed through our limited understanding of the world.


Everyone tries to be cool but there is no such thing as cool, not really. There is only the perception of cool, and that changes from person to person. In truth, I gave up trying to be cool long, long ago. It wasn't because I believed that I wasn't, it was more to do with the fact that trying to keep up a pretense was mentally exhausting. I also believe that if any person were to accept me as a friend or loved one, then they would eventually have to see me as I truly am.


This is how I see myself. I am goofy. I love to laugh at the silliest things. My sense of humor is sometimes crass and juvenile. I am a psychic kosmonaut, one who explores ideas of the mind. I'm obsessed with self-expression and creativity. I am satisfied with imperfection so long as it does not cause an imposition on others or to my commitment to doing a good job at work. I'm forgetful, quirky, painfully bashful and also bombastically loud. I love alcohol the feeling of riding on mental magic carpets partially disconnected from the world. I hate when it flips from too many days of indulgence and therefore cannot stand more than two days drinking before I have to abstain for weeks. I am not judgmental of other people's habits though I may make a comment or two. I am the polar opposite of approved of prudish Anne would be a complete hedonist if not for my hatred of causing discomfort or pain to others. I am a philosopher and take great joy in exploring the question of what if. Do not ask me about God because I don't have an answer, but if you would like to talk about the infinite possibilities of what God might symbolize or what forms of deities hypothetically exist, then bring a bottle of rum or two bottles of your best wine. We have much to discuss.


There's so much more to tell. I like looking at strangers and creating stories about them, short fictions to entertain myself and to examine the meaning of body language and facial expression as strangers interact. I am altruistic and do things for the sake of goodness rather than my own personal benefit, although some theorize that there is no such thing as altruism because doing a good deed makes you feel good, which is why we do them in the first place. I don't know if that's true, but I know that I don't care. Regardless of the reason, something done is something done, and good is good even if it’s born from selfishness. As I wrote in a previous post, I am a non-conformist. I don't like the idea of being anyone else but myself. I most certainly don't like the idea of being told who someone else thinks I should be. Music is my language. It speaks to me on multiple levels of understanding. Although I never mastered an instrument, I deeply understand the subtle nuances of artistry and emotional expression. For reasons beyond my comprehension, my brain formulates ideas as poetic expressions. I see abstracts as clearly as I see the solid reality of my desk or computer screen. When I look at the world, I can sense the fibers that connect us all. I can see them too like multicolored dayglow strings wrapping themselves around everything


Good luck with trying to construct an accurate representation because even these words fail to fully describe. They're only the things that popped into my head now. I also and painfully aware of the fact that even I construct an image of myself that may not be wholly accurate area we all deny aspects of ourselves that we either cannot see or refuse to acknowledge. You have to keep in mind that there are many things that haven’t been told, probably more than have been told. Something must be left to the imagination and some secrets must remain secrets.


When I was a child, I used to believe many strange things, different from all the stuff that I just described above. I wrote them all down so that I could have an outline for a future story entry. When I looked at what I had written, I realized that it had formed its own kind of poetry or perhaps a song lyric. I laugh to myself for accidentally being who I am.


Listen to underwater through the bathtub telephone

Mind control

Heart control

Forgotten telekinesis

Whole body down the drain

We lived inside the globe

I could float down on an umbrella

I could reach inside and pull something from the TV

Dreams are real

My vampire lover is waiting

Demonic possession is no joke

The moon is following me

If I throw a rock hard enough,

I can make it stop





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