We can write and read what we write. That may be all that comes from self expression, yet these words appear on a public forum. Look at the volume of content... This post gets lost in infinity.
So my usual concerns are simple...I make them sound like complaints... I have a complaining nature... I don't know what tone to apply, or how to vary my tone. The adventure of clash and conflict is ultimately a learning experience. What good is learning? Well, it is a priority. It applies to future challenges.
My mind has everything yet an external stimuli creates the access. It is one thing to have possession of everything in the universe and another to be able to find it, to lay hands on it, to access the useful and applicable experience and information.
This is all by way of introduction to the very little I feel comfortable and qualified to announce here or anywhere. I am afraid of knowing my own thoughts. This is the experience of misunderstanding. The misunderstanding of my shorthand language is not apparent to me but rather becomes apparent when other people bother to consider what I'm saying. I'm not sure that for others who consider what I think that they are engaging in a profitable enterprise. What do I have to offer beyond the volumes of advertisements vying for attention?
And yes, I love attention, even in my loneliness, and I'm not particularly alone. We're all somewhat alone...
Before concluding, do I wait for the facts? No, I can fill in the blanks; just give me the short announcement and I'll imagine the rest. This person passed away from being struck by a train?
A long time ago I placed my imagination under a leash, to be loosened only by a comparable reality. In this particular case, reality well exceeded the limit of my imagination.
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