I fear that I have nothing to share this week of particular consequence.

As I sit down to write, I think that there have been a number of happenings, but few that I really feel like sharing. Most are commonplace things, like sands through the hourglass, so are...

Those of you who opt to stop reading now would be rightfully forgiven for a lack of interest at this point, but those of you who continue might well be deserving of thanks for the willingness to see a thing to the end once started. Along those same lines, sometimes it's best to ride a train all the way to the next station rather than leaping off midway. At least the landings are less sudden that way and it's much easier to find one's luggage.

However, under the bright scrutiny of the railway station, some have found that the dull thud of flesh on earth would have preferable to the unwanted attention of men with pistols and uniforms. In this case, those aren't concerns. The worst fear for most would be complete and utter boredom, or perhaps confusion. Mixing the two together would give on ‘borefusion,' which is a better choice of order in combining those two words for literary purposes than the other. That's another of those things that might have been better left unsaid, like the answer to the question, "Does this dress make me look fat." But I vary from the point. Well, I would have varied from the point if I had a point to start with.

In thinking of destinations, a recent story comes to mind. At a meeting the other day, one of the local fellows came in late and said he had been driving to the meeting and had turned toward his house without thinking and made it partly there before realizing that he was going the wrong way.

Not to be outdone, I did the same thing just a short time afterwards after picking up lunch and having ample time to forget the circumstance.

Sometimes when I drive a familiar route, I will automatically make certain turns without thinking, heading to a donation by tradition rather than by true thought. That sort of thing makes one wonder how much of our daily routines are done by rote rather than by actual careful consideration. I was supposed to be picking up my child and instead drove on by the school and was heading for who knows where when I snapped out of my thoughts and realized I was not where I had intended to be going. That might explain how those who are intoxicated can often find their way to places and not remember how they got there. Perhaps this is a way for me to save money; I can do the same thing without the added expense of buying alcohol.

As for the admission made a the meeting, it was nice to know that I'm not the only one who has headed for the school and ended up driving to the gas station, but it really doesn't make me feel that much better about the situation. It did, however, make me wonder why that sort of thing might happen. After thinking about it, I realized that it might be caused by thinking too much. Therefore, by thinking about why I was doing it, I could actually be causing it to happen. That's when I got confused. After hitting my mental reset button, I thought that perhaps I just get wrapped up in pondering the thoughts that seem to tumble around in my mind like the clothes in a dryer rather than looking at the white and yellow lines in front of my vehicle with any understanding. Not that I've managed a great deal of understanding of the thoughts in my mind either, but I may have made more effort at that than at paying attention to where I was going on several occasions.

So I did what any normal fellow would do–I turned the car around and headed back to the first destination after buying a little gas. Well, I was there after all.

Maybe it's more like the way cows go to slaughter, walking along in single file and wondering if there's any grain on the other side of the gate until some fellow comes along and "pow," it's all over. For several months they give you a bucket of grain and then, just when you get comfortable, its all over.

The whole circumstance stands to remind me of life in general. Sometimes we really don't know where we're going until we come to our senses and realize where we are and what we've accomplished (or failed to accomplish). In the words of a fellow I used to know who sprang forth from a home of little affluence, "We was poor when I grew up. Things were so bad that I've stood in line all day for a block of cheese and ended up with a bag of rice."

I don't know what that means, but when I think about him saying it, I always smile.

As for starting off for one place and ending up another, that's one of those things that most people just don't mention to one another. Usually when mentioned in the company of men, someone else usually nods with affirmation. Been there, done that. Maybe women do that same thing? I doubt it, since they seem able to think about several things at once while drawing connections between them and still somehow doing another thing. I think it's been dubbed, ‘multitasking,' but I consider it another form of confusion. I usually get frustrated or even angry when someone constantly interrupts me at a task. Women seem to look forward to it.

I was working on the computer the other day while my significant female decided to read me a few words out of the book she was enjoying, thinking I might like to hear it while I worked. She also sometimes thinks I might like to answer questions or have a conversation during a movie or a football game.

As I close another week's aimless journey into the disparate thoughts of my own feeble mind, I hope you haven't been overly taxed by my blathering. If you have, don't worry, we've reached the station and this train is coming to a stop. At least until next week.
 

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