Haha.

Jerry Scott teaches tolerance among bloggers. 

Although, personally, I'm a diehard Xangsta. 

Losing things is a terrible experience.  And not only is it a terrible experience, but it is terrible that it is a terrible experience, because of how frequently it happens to me. 

Of course, I say "happens to me" as though losing things was much a thing like the weather.  In reality losing things is, in my case, self-caused nine times out of ten.  Predominantly the item I misplace is my wristwatch, which is an item that is definitely convenient to take off at times (like when typing) and conversely extremely convenient to have on at times (like when running). 

Apart from being deprived of the uses of the lost item, searching for things proves to be a tantalizing process filled with spurts of false hopes and eager thoughts prodding me to certain locations ("Ah, yes! That must be where it is!")  It often feels like I'm being thwarted by an inanimate object.  When especially in need of whatever I'm lookng for, I imagine everything in the house, furniture and all, as having planned the disappearance deliberately to amuse themselves at my frantic search.  The item, I can envision, is dangled from the ceiling behind my head as I rummage through a bookshelf, and all my family members are replaced by hallograms who are programmed to only say, "No, I haven't seen it." 

Perhaps an even worse thought than accusing my own house of being alive and practicing such facetious devilry is realizing the truth: I moved it and forgot where I put it.  My own inept memory, along with my inability to conscientiously monitor where I place things, is the cause of my current predicament.  During the search I might mutter things like, "Where did I put it?!" "What's wrong with me?!" "I had it right here last time!"  Now as you'll notice, the "I" referred to in those quotes most nearly refers to the actions of myself on another day.  Asking where I put my keys is, in other words, like asking the Philip from the day that misplaced the keys where he put them.  Thus, if the me from each day was extracted from my life timeline so there was Monday Philip, Tuesday Philip, and so on, I am sure quite a brawl would immediately ensue if I was put into a room with all of my other me's. 

Thursday Philip:  HEY TUESDAY, YOU DOLT!
Tuesday Philip:  Who, me?
Thursday:  YES, YOU! WHAT DID YOU DO WITH MY DRIVER'S LICENSE?! 
Tuesday:  Dude, chill, not even my fault.  I had it in the car, someone else must have moved it.
Thursday:  Hooey!  You were driving, no one would move it but you!
Tuesday: Yeah, well at least I shaved, look at you!
Wednesday Philip:  Um, actually, Tuesday, it was probably you, man.  You lost my shoes too, remember?
Tuesday:  I did?
Wednesday:  Yeah, you put them in the garage, which is a mess.  Took me 15 minutes to find them.
Tuesday:  Oh, sorry.  Well, if Monday Philip would have just gone to bed when he was supposed to! 

Getting along and learning to have patience with my own clumsy mind is as much training for spousal interaction as I could possiby need.  If my wife ever loses something all I will need to do is remember that the situation is no different than if I were living on my own having to tolerate my own thoughtless fumbles.  And if needed as a last resort, I can remind myself that the downfalls of another mind or my own is far more desirable than owning an animated house that habitually conspires with itself to hide my things.

While scurrying about looking for a lost item I sometimes freeze suddenly to ponder the predicament from an omnicsient third person view.  Considering an omniscient view from inside the situation is frustrating.  I can picture somewhere, in some stable, stationary place, the object I so earnestly seek. There it rests quietly; unstirred, undisturbed, and outside my knowledge.  Meanwhile I am someplace else, utterly bewildered, racking my mind to try and think where the item could possibly be. 

From a bird's eye view, the situation is downright comical.  If the item I've lost isn't too important, I'll laugh at the picture of me looking thoroughly in hysterically wrong places for something my finite mind has misplaced.  There scuttles the litte human, despairingly, wandering his own miniature premises to and fro, confounded by his own inattentive mind!  His past self has unkowingly hid something he now needs, and he determinedly battles against being undone by his own self as he galumphs around looking everywhere he can for it. And yet the item is where it is, and he might find it, if not for his own forgetful nature blocking the way.

Life is automatically filled with certain activities that all of us are bound to do.  Inescapably, we will spend so many hours sleeping, driving, eating, and going through our everyday habits.  Thus, it is in the moments when we have nothing to do that we find out who we really are.  When there is nothing to do, what do you do?  Freedom is maximized in the moment where no obligations exist.  We ought to be firmly curious about our desires in that moment, and how we spend that time, for it indicates something more real than when we do things out of necessity. 

What if there was no time?  If there is an eternity, how can we be headed for it,
as though it started at some point?  If we are immortal, then considering time
within this finite body is inconsequential and irrelevant.  Every moment is in equal
relationship with eternity as being infinitely valuable.  Thus, if eternity awaits, it matters not when we reach it, but how (that is, in what condition) we reach it.  As it now is when we consider time and our lives, we are
measuring the wrong way.  If we wanted to measure things in this world
more accurately in relation to eternity, we would measure our souls to
see their corruption or redemption.  When we think of the end of our lives, we usually think the simple thought that we will one day die, rather that we will in some way die.  What will our hearts have become?  So far, we have been using time to
measure the length of a river that runs forever, when we really need to be measuring its depth.

It amuses me to think of the millions worldwide who have waited for a decade to know the conclusion to the Harry Potter saga, and will tonight buy the book and have the answer in their hands, and yet will still have to read through the whole thing to finally get the answer.  It is being so close ... and yet so far at the same time.  It's like having a long day at school, yearning to be home, only to arrive home to find yourself locked out.

Sorry it has been so long, but I have been away with my family.  Please forgive me.  These are, again, random thoughts I have had during the day that I had enough will power to remember until I had made it to Xanga safely.  The first one is about two posts ago.

You could not even see another person's thoughts, because thoughts are only as we think them.  For a thought to be what it is, you have to be the person thinking it.  There is no way to receive a thought indirectly. 

Most people think of themself as a Necessary.  But what is truly wonderful in life is to realize that you are not a Necessary, but yet have still been added to the universe by Love. 

Time does not solve things.  Things are solved by solving them.

You cannot have a methodical adventure.

Reality has a 100% chance of occurring. 

One must deal with the reality of their thoughts just as they must live in physical reality.  A person is no more appropriate in saying, "I don't want to think about it!" than in saying, "I think I shall live outside the world today." 

Understanding is something we can only approach as a limit.  As close as we get to understanding another person, the fact remains that the only thing we know directly is our own experience.

A man was not sorry who repeats the crime. 

Where there is an absence of conflict, there is an absence of reality.

Remember only to have children if you think life is worth living.

If you haven't accepted the implications of your beliefs, then you don't really believe them.

P.S. I probably won't be able to post soon, although it is possible I might.  Here is why: a few weeks ago I suggested a book to a friend, who responded by agreeing to read it if I read the fifth Harry Potter book.  What a trap!  Of course, I can't only read the fifth one!  So I decided, against the judgment from all my past experience (don't trust books with mass appeal) to read them all.  So I have to get them done by July 21 to be ready and waiting with the rest of the world for the last one, and I have only started last Tuesday, and from what I have seen they just get fatter and fatter as the series progresses.