Ramble on.

Quiet. Then thinking turns on without me noticing…. There is perhaps just this and that to understand. This: I have become the name that everyone forgets, that there is nothing there, really, to me at all. I have become worse than invisible, at least in this day and age — I am ordinary…. That: we who are ordinary believe that greatness comes by luck, by fate, by subsidies of some greater wind. We don’t believe that one can ever choose to be great, that enough hard work and determination will ever win out verses blind chance…. Further: like that guy in the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (book 2? 3?) who was immortal without the ability to handle it, so it is perhaps with a few of those who are esteemed in the world. And there’s the other side of the bucket, those who are all too ready to be favored without being in any way outstanding…. And then there’s: what else?

What am I missing? Yes, there’s that, and that, and that… and… stop. Too much. I don’t want to know, do I? Makes me think of the fact that normal human beings only use 10% of their brains; and do you know who use 30%? Schizophrenics. Makes me think that no, I don’t need to know that you could make a pattern between a random someone winking at you and why the newspaper boy is waiting to kill you one of these mornings and the huge conspiracy behind all things everywhere. Makes me think, you know, there’s a lot to be said about merely being ordinary in this world of twisted extremes…. And what does it mean, to be ordinary? I think perhaps we need to raise the bar on the word. I am ordinary, but that does not mean I will not care, and that does not mean I will do nothing. I am ordinary, and I matter…. Maybe that’s what I’m missing.

Ramble off.