Tired Thursday Ramblings, Or Disorder in an Ordered Universe, Or Why God Hates You, Bronson Pinchot

I think I have a thing for patterns. When I was little, my gifted teacher used to tell me that I had an unusual balance between logic and creativity--kids usually are more predisposed to one over the other, but apparently I've got (or once had) equal footing in both. *toot toot fart fart* And consequently, I always liked those stupid games where you have to figure out whether it was Sue, Nancy, or Fifi who ate the cow, hotdog, wristwatch in the bedroom, kitchen, toilet bowl based on what you are able to piece together based on the meager facts that are given. Nowadays, I find myself most enjoying brief respites in my mundane daily work that come in the form of trying to piece together patterns in the aforementioned mundane daily work and making adjustments accordingly. And often I find myself gleefully enjoying these kinds of moments in "the real world" as well, while driving down the street or listening to a cd or bantering playfully back and forth with someone. In my anal-retentive child-brain, this pleases it like nothing else. I love love love recognizing sudden moments where things fall into place and a tiny bit of order in the universe is exposed in a delicate un-penis-sticking-out-of-fly kinda way. There is something beautiful and god-like in doing so, like delicately sewing together the thinnest sheerest piecest of cloth with a skein of spider web that's wrapped around your pinky. Or wait. Maybe it's moreso like the moment you make it across the tight-rope that's dangling precariously over the Niagara and finally step on solid-ground after minutes of trembling, breath-holding gloriousness. Not like I'd know what either really feels like because it's all just speculation. But it is rewarding work.

Problem is, I like the little titty-perk that comes with recognizing these patterns in everything, and after a while, this gets kinda irritating. For both me and other people. For example, patterns in people's behavior--I dig that psychological shit and find myself pointing out to people fairly frequently what the behavior they exhibit means based on the same behavior exhibited in 15 other people I've known. Problem is, this gets to be reductive. It doesn't account for chaos. It doesn't account for the fact that a person's behaviour might be an exception to the rule. It doesn't allow for uniqueness, which is something I of course treasure. And it also leads to over-analysis of EVERY FUCKING LITTLE THING.

Conclusion: perhaps stereotyping = failure to acknowledge that oftentimes order is chaotic and vice versa.

Conclusion Part Deux = despite my self-disgust, recognizing these patterns and what they could POSSIBLY mean is sometimes a good thing, when you're recognizing it in yourself.

Conclusion 3 = STOP OVER-FUCKING-ANALYZING EVERYTHING. Patterns cannot be placed on *everything* everyone says and does, you stupid stupid girl.

Conclusion D = Nobody has any clue what you're trying to say here, and neither do you, so stop while the getting's good or the going's good or whatever it is that's good in that stupid expression.

I am tired today. Very tired. Very very tired.

The new Strokes cd makes me wanna shag all day.

And right now, I could go for a nice bowl of cereal. Instead I will have soup.

Shit cock fuck.

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