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The Answer to Life is…Ugh! Lost it.

I began this with the intent to write a relatively creative entry. This post was to be “Freshly Pressed” material. If only you could envision my vision I could envision you envisioning my vision…It would be a beautiful thing. Unfortunately, that idea has dissipated and I am left with a scattered strand of cranial matter. I have good reason for this mishap.

A fly.

Fly

There are over one hundred and twenty thousand species of flies. Each genera or family is as annoying as the last. Am I being harsh by condemning these bugs to the title of annoying? No. When you have swatter specifically designated to handle flies, that should signify that something or someone needs an attitude change. I’m talking to you flies.

I do not mind that they land on my tasty treats. It is disgusting, but it is not going to prevent me from devouring that cupcake. While we are on the subject of cupcakes, does anyone else love cupcakes more than a slice of cake? What is it about cake in a cup that makes it more delectable than its sliced counterpart? I digress. It also does not bother me that they, quite fittingly, fly by ear canals and update me with the latest buzz. (That’s just a little fly humor.) It does not even bother me when they try to make sexual advances by crawling up my legs and caressing my arm hair. Each and every fly movement I have described has had an intended destination or purpose.

The most despicable trait a fly has is being an interruption to my peripheral vision. This is the fly that flies in oblong circles. What purpose does this fly serve? It has about a fourteen day life span, yet it will spend a significant portion of that circling the center of my room an in identical pattern. I know it will never land on me, it will never bother my food, but yet I find it to be the most disturbing type of fly.

After doing some extensive research (typing it into Google and choosing the first option that relates to my question), I have limited it down to three reasons why they do this. The first of which is mating protocol. They are sexing it up. They choose to do this in the center of the room because they are exhibitionist. They have twenty thousand one hundred and sixty minutes to live, they are going to do it up big. Circular exhibition insex. They also like reminding you of the fact that they are getting some and you are not. If this fly were in a bar, it would be the first bar-fly to get some. Bad joke. I’m full of them.

The second reason has to do with finding a perch or food. Now, I am unclear as to when they make their move. Is there fly code? Is there a certain time frame or circular motions they have to complete before being allowed to rest or eat? Or are the ones still flying the Caitlin Upton’s of the egg? Maybe they are just wanting to fly through life. If it is a perch they are looking for, the entire room is full of them. As for food, if you haven’t found it in four hundred rotations, it is not there.

The last reason is that they want to interrupt my thought process. Simply put, they see the twinkle of brilliance in my eye, just my left one, and they want to extinguish it. They saw that “Freshly Pressed” was only a circle away and they committed their life to preventing me from obtaining that award. This last reason is dipped in no scientific reasoning, but I believe it to be 100% accurate. Otherwise I have no excuse for my lackadaisical entry or why I have not been Freshly Pressed.

Silence Is Not Golden

I am somnolent, yet my mind refuses to enter a dormant comatose. I am on the verge of forty winks, but if forty is the new thirty then my nap has less value. However, I do not mind such cognitive actions, but my mind is attracted to ideas and concepts that have become obsolete.

This is when silence is not golden. Rather, it does not place at all. I try to drown out my thoughts with musical exertion, but it does not pacify my minds relentless approach to topics that rest in the elephant graveyard. Instead music proceeds to represent itself as an acting accomplice.

This is not efficacious when I commute an average of ninety minutes a day. I once enjoyed this grace period as a chance to decompress myself, but with each passing day I have taken less pleasure in my travels. Things have changed and I choose to dwell on that which does not dwell on me.

It perturbs me to be so vague on my personal blog, but I have yet to kindle enough strength to discuss my personal struggles and triumphs in clarity. I already feel that my expedition into the internet’s social network web is going to be troublesome in later years. My ideas could change, but perhaps some things are better left to my mind’s personal personnel.