I have 8 minutes to try and remember the profound thought I was enjoying before I tripped over a weight, landed stomach first into the coffee table before vomiting trail mix on it. I have 8 minutes because I wasted the 10 minutes before. Now I am down to 5 minutes, I have wasted the following 3 wishing I had written the thoughts down. Down to 4, because I just realized my pen and paper are not where I left it. There is no reason to waste anymore time, so I shall write whatever comes to mind.There are several people who I miss talking to a great deal, two of which are actual people. Talking to another person is one of those absolutely amazing things that people absolutely take for granted. Look at the moon, right now. If you can't then turn away in shame, but if you can do so and think to yourself, "How many conversations are taking place there?" I don't think the answer is too different when you look at Mercury or Mars.
In my eyes words are miracles, and the ability to wield them to talk about the glorious and the foolish is a gift too great to attribute to anything but the most wonderful of circumstances. Sometimes it takes me aback, truly, I feel almost weepy at the majesty of words. "Boy, that duck sure shit a lot of quarters into my coffee," is a sentence that I see as universally glorious, on too many levels to count.
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