Thoughts at random. They come and go as they please. I watch like a drunk watches heavy traffic at sunset. I don’t know where they come from or where they originate. Like evolution randomly trying different ways to form life, different trials and tests, associations and cooperations, some that work, some that don’t. To me, they are all interesting. Little bugs that grow and fly, entertaining to discover and watch, see how they progress. The tough part is trying to explain them. I am too often worried that if I try to share these things, people will read too much, interpret and analyze, as they often have to much dismay in the past. Very few people listen and say, “yes, that is an odd thought” and even less are able to pick up whatever hypothetical thread that may have slipped out and allow it to develop in their own minds. See what other ideas it may spawn. Too many people have catagorized and judged the ideas (and by association, me) and from then on pigeon-holed us both.

Are ideas wrong to have? Is it wrong to even think of something? I had a Sunday school teacher (actually I think it was a Monday night) that told me that if you thought of doing something sinful, it was as bad as doing it and you should do penance for it (yes, Roman Catholic). I replied with the obvious “Then if I think it, I might as well do it, cause I’m already in trouble, right?” Of course, he replied with the return-obvious, “no, because then you have done it twice.” I thought about this for a long time. It was about this time that I tried to stop thinking about things, for fear of commiting some kind of sacred crime and not even getting the fun part of doing it. As I learned more and more about the world, it became harder and harder not to think, and eventually I recruited the services of alcohol and minor drugs to help in the fight against the evil demon “thought.” Of course, this didn’t really stop anything but it did delay the internal battle for a while, after which I realized that thinking about the world really wasn’t such a bad thing and that people who didn’t do it had the problem, not me. How surprising.

So on with a thought. In the past 19 months (since baby was born), I have wondered if being a single parent can be easier in some ways than being part of a couple. You only have yourself and the baby to worry about, and you get a feel of what they need pretty quick. And hopefully, you have an idea of what you need, so that must be easier that adding in another person with more needs and different thoughts, opinions, perspectives, etc. that you all would have to work out. Sort of like a simple monarchy over an oligarchy. One leader (either parent or baby) makes for less fuss and no arguing. There are definite benefits to have 2 parents, I will say that right away. But would the trade-off favor the single parent or the pair?

Since my wife is away this weekend, I can say with certainty, the pair is favorable to me. I am a stay at home dad, so there really is nothing different in my day with her away, but being without my wife is a drag, and I usually only see her for a couple of hours a day. Between work and sleep, we don’t get a whole lot of actual time together, which tends to make me lonely and frustrated. Home parents, especially dads, are a little removed from society at times. I am even more lonely and frustrated now. I can’t imagine being like this all the time. I also can’t imagine trying to actually find a partner while feeling this way either. Poor bastards. Would be like trying to find a date with a runny ass on your forehead.

Can the above thought be analyzed and interpreted to mean that I have wished to be a single parent? Could one postulate that I wish something terrible to happen to my wife? Can you fit an egg in a telephone booth coin slot? You could, but it would be pointless. But is it wrong to even think about it?

No wonder I don’t go to church.

I have a house, and marketers are allowed to litter it every day with little flyers and trash to advertise their stuff. In order to stop it, I have to put up an ugly ass sign that says “no soliciting”. How about people that want trash stuck to their doors can put up a sign that that says “solicit here”. There place is already trashy with all the flyers, so one sign won’t make any difference.

How tough must this job be? Defending someone who has been spouting shit and hating you for years! Rush “my back hurts” Limbaugh And all his spouting about locking up drug convicts and throwing away the key! Seems like someone was over compensating.

More and more, language seems to be a hinderance to communication. I hear a song and say “I know exactly what that cat was feeling.” I hear a news report or read an article and say “what the hell are they talking about?” It seems to make sense that an artist is trying to express something and is striving to get us to understand, but why does it seem that the media isn’t really trying to educate or communicate, but fog my mind with odd things. Who’s agenda is being served? That is the question I keep asking. Even with music or art- I look for the sponsorships, plugs and distractions, so I don’t feel that I am looking at different genres with different lenses. I have been trying to write PR for work, so maybe that has influenced my thinking more lately. Must be careful of the black helicopters.

Mother stones 2 children to death and is called insane.

http://nytimes.com/2004/04/04/national/04TEXA.html

No! Really? What the hell?!? Of course she is insane. She heard the voice of God telling her to stone her children to death and actually did it. She is a freaking loon. She had home schooled her children and was deeply religious. If I hear one more time how some “deeply religious” person did some horrific act because “God” told them to, I’m gonna…well…um…start using that excuse myself.

Here’s a little tip – if God ever tells you to do something like this, tell him/her to send his/her request in writing by certified mail with a current home return address, no P.O. boxes. As an all-powerful being, it shouldn’t be that hard to buy a stamp.

Gee, God told me to do something totally horrific and terrible to my innocent children. Well, at least it sounded like God’s voice inside my head. And I know exactly what God’s voice sounds like because of all those times he spoke to me through the dog, chanting “do it, do it, do it, kill, kill, kill, and get me a big t-bone steak, kill, kill, kill, and throw that tennis ball real far, kill, kill.” And the potted fern in the living room, too. Maybe I should get out of the house more. Get a little fresh air and exercise.