Do you ever get caught up in the fantasies of what might have been? I spend way too much time there I suppose. Oh, I don't really have many regrets. It's just that I'm always aware that every time I turn over twice before I get out of bed I'm having an effect on everything that happens for the rest of the day and, therefore, the rest of my life. Since the vibrations of my very existence affect everything else, I've messed with the universe. Heck, I haven't even gotten up yet! Then I could easily move on to worry about yesterday.
What if I had never had a vasectomy? What if we had taken the job being Van Morrison's band? Do you suppose that I might have saved that puppy in the road if I had run faster?
No wonder folks lose their minds. I've read that we all have obsessive compulsions. It's just a disorder if it interferes with life. Damn. This is life.
You can't afford to keep quiet, withhold love or wear pants. This is it. It may or may not be the only lap we run, depending on which Sunday school you attended.
Is it not completely obvious to all of us that war is dumb? That guy, Putin, doesn't have any fancy new clothes. He's naked! We're all naked. Can't we just ignore all those self-important, old white guys in front of the CNN cameras rattling those antiquated swords while the veins in their foreheads poke out?
Somehow, they have tricked us into believing that we're all competing for a limited number of I phones or McMansions or Jaguars or Gibsons or Mojitos and that we run the risk of being unhappy if we don't play the game. Their game. By their rules.
I may go back to bed. I love you.