stupid is: stupid does

"Any idea that is worthwhile is very nearly a stupid one." (or something like that)*
- Michel Gondry

*not actually part of the quote

I feel like all my ideas are stupid. And not the secretly brilliant ones disguised as stupid but objectively ridiculous. Except for starting to write letters to my father. That was a good idea. But everything else, no good. Actually I take that back. In truth I think far too highly of my ideas. I love them dearly. I hold them so close that no one else can see them. Mine all mine.

I actually just got a great idea. I must water our house plants and water our garden. I believe our brown little conifer on our table is beyond help so maybe instead of watering it I will just sing to it and hope that it had lived long enough to bear seeds and multiply. I think we will be enjoying its kin for years to come... somewhere.

brandonpiercegeary

bottemless beverages

I truly believe that life is full to bursting. I like to look at optimism not as taking potentially disappointing situations and seeing them as efficacious such as in the old "glass half full" euphemism but more like a bottomless fountain beverage that is never empty and if we are thirsty enough the glass never has to be quite full either. "Drink and be merry for tomorrow we die." Bottoms up.

I don't know, I was talking with Melissa earlier and she said some simple and profound things about feigning happiness to not honestly feel something unfavorable. It caused me to rethink my motivation for positivity. As far as I can tell and have been told I am a generally, or perhaps more sincerely, haphazardly optimistic. If I am merely compensating for feelings that leave holes in me then I indeed create more holes through my self-delusion. But if I do not delude myself and excuse and then suppress poor situations and instead continue throwing back life so that even when I reach the end and the straw starts making sucking sounds I will pound my tumbler on the table and demand my free refill. We don't have to stay at the bottom trying to slurp the watery backwash trapped under the ice cubes. And to take this miserable metaphor one painfully silly (or astoundingly poignant) step further - when the fresh beverage slides across the wooden planks and into our palm we can continue the fellowship and discourse over the bountiful meal with our friends. We can pour into each other.

Good poopin' that was ridiculous but I meant every word.