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Sometime I figure that as long as I can make sense of my own behavior, it doesn't matter whether I can make sense of your perceived behavior or not. Particularly since all I can possibly ken of your behavior is my own idea of what's going on over there. This has been a persistent, redundant theme of mine for a long time now.
One of the instigating factors of my feeling good this morning surely has something to do with these probiotics I'm putting into my body. It hasn't always been that way. Initially, it was a painful experience. Not only that, but my feeling better about taking them might be associated with when I'm putting those capsules full of "good" bacteria in my body. Doing it early before I eat appears to have helped me adjust to what they're doing.
I get up several times each night, usually at the end of each sleep cycle to relieve my bladder. How else would I know if I've got to go? When it's cold outside, getting up from my warm bed to go take care of business is irritating. I hurry to get back under the warm covers as quickly as possible, and return to the dreamtime. It was 60° (15.55° C) at five o'clock this morning, and I was not in so much in a hurry to go back to bed at all. I stayed up to write.
Before I woke up I dreamed of living in some earlier period in history. I'm thinking maybe the late eighteen hundreds by the clothing and lack of technology. It was horse and buggy days. There was a ragtag group of men around me, and what looked like a plantation store of a not so well-to-do plantation. I might not have been the owner, but I was at least an overseer of some sort who told people what to do. They acted like what I said mattered.
We were approached by this city slicker who wanted to hang around. For what, was more difficult to discern. In the dream, I figured that if I knew his astrology sign I might garner more information without committing to a decision, and so I asked him for identification that had his birth date on it. I didn't want to have to employ the ubiquitous, "What's yo' sign?" giveaway.
The scrap of paper he handed me should have sent me straight into lucid dreaming. That was because it was printed by a computer, and that's how I became aware that in this dream sequence I was illiterate. I couldn't read. That was a new feeling, and I woke up soon afterward.
My new noise-canceling headphones work. One of the loud military helicopters approached the area, and as usual, I could hear it coming a fair distance away. Did I say these helicopters are loud? Very loud. I can turn my TV up all the way, and still not distinguish what the talking heads are talking about, because of the stultifying, uninspiring, deliberate sound they make.
I grabbed my new headphones from off the twenty penny nail I had pounded into a wall stud. They handily hang off to the right side of my computer monitor. There is a slide button that turns on the electronic circuit whose job it is to digitally match the ambient sound to offset it. The red LED light came on as it's supposed to, and I quickly adjusted the foam ear cups over my abused ear lobes.
It was a wonderful sensation, or rather, a wonderful lack of sensation. The sound wasn't exactly muffled, but deterred. It was obviated. It was cut out. It was interrupted. What I heard was a new experience I don't know how to describe yet. Hold yer horses, I eventually will.
The noise wasn't gone. I could still hear the helicopter's engine sounds despite my brand new noise-canceling Bose headphones. Airplanes in general have no mufflers [in this case, it is the military, and these war machines are designed to irritate the hell out of people), but the usual sound was interfered with by the electronic circuitry.
The web site I scanned to discover what I could understand about this digital circuitry plainly stated that they were designed to be worn by helicopter pilots to do exactly what they were doing. It was only later that passengers in jet liners realized the headphones worked for them in the same way. Bose, who makes expensive speaker systems, was the man who invented and patented these devices.
Obviously, my highest wish would be that I didn't need to wear devices like these inside my own house to protect me from the military that supposed to protect me and my neighbors from enemies. But, now our own military has taken over the government and do whatever they like without regard to the citizens they are supposed to serve. Now we serve them.
Obama's attack on Libya reveals the dictator-like attributes I have been writing about since I first noticed that he struts around in a manner very reminiscent of the Italian dictator Mussolini. Even though I voted for him, and probably would again instead of voting for that weirdo John McCain (who, in my personal opinion, is still Vietnam's masochistic bitch). Obama's eagerness to declare war on Libya and call it macaroni as the act of a world savior is not okay with me.
The problem with his doing that, as far as I am concerned, is that the security spinners make it appear that it was Obama's decision and not the military/industrial complex who actually calls the shots in the United States of America. I might feel better about it if he was just another nutcase filled to the brim with delusions of grandeur.
The PBS channel has been showing travel shows since I got up, fixed coffee and breakfast, and began writing this blog entry. Most of the time I've been composing the TV is muted, but when I reached a stopping point I turn on the sound and listened to Rick Steves describe Copenhagen and the Danes, and then Burt Wolfe show off the intricacies of Taiwan.
It never ceases to amaze me that these travel shows have introduced more information about the world via these videos than I ever was shown or learned in college, and geography was probably my favorite courses in my formal education. I might have taken the geography courses themselves merely in order to watch the films they presented in class.
Presently, I've seen all of Steve Ricks and Burt Wolfe's travel shows at least twenty times each. Minimum. How could I not? The University of North Carolina Educational TV airs them over and over again constantly. They almost take up as much air time as the dodo heads (feigning false, amateurish enthusiasm) who constantly and unendingly beg for donations.
The only other options as far as over-the-air television reception goes is insane, perverse sitcoms about emergency room traumas, police and lawyer shows about murder and mayhem, and the trials and tribulations of teenager puppy love, unfaithful marriage "partners", and the agonies of child bearing and raising kids. In my dotage, I've outgrown that ridiculous, mundane crap.
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I do not attempt to tell the God's own truth here because I don't know what the truth is or hardly ever. I try to capture the drifting thoughts that randomly appear in my imagination for reasons I may not understand. I don't know if the content I capture with these words is true or false. The Comments settings are turned off to prevent me from having to defend what amounts to little more than fanciful, sometime crude speculation. Great moments in our lives never return.
