Unless Chuck Norris has you, in which case, forget it.
Which reminds me, Backpacking Dad told me about this one that he heard about over at loraleeslooneytunes.com:
Go to google
Type "find chuck norris" in search
Then click "I'm feeling lucky".
Speaking of fun times, recently I have been reflecting on some of the primary yet nonetheless fascinating, aspects of depression.
For instance the always fun depressive cognitive triad of self, the immediate world around that self, and that so bleak, you gotta pull the shades, future. In each of those corners, the member of the triad surround and transfix on only those
Anyone else thinking High Kong Underworld when I say triad? Didn't think so. Anyhow, when one sees glimpses of these mobsters of the membrane kind, one can only laugh in it's face because recognition is one step in moving past it. Some may not agree, but consensus is impossible to attain in matters of the brain.
Now there's a puzzle for you lovers of challenges: map and solve the riddles of the human brain in the next 10 minutes please.
Anyhow, that constant focus on the negative permeates everything. Just like that red onion I forgot to wrap and left in the fridge last week. Cupcakes with onion essence? Not so nice. The onion needs to be removed and presented to the Glad Man.
Dude, that was some stylin' hair on the Glad Man. Remember him and his gleaming white everything. Nary a speck of dirt on the man who takes charge and takes out your trash. Good gravy, why can't I find a picture of the Glad Man? Why did I just say gravy? Google you have failed me, what did I ever do to you?
Speaking of taking out the trash - the forgetfulness from having head up the backside is difficult to figure out. Ugly stuff and the extraction for such a problem can be a slow process. It's not as difficult when it's not wedged too deep, but this only happens when the owner of said head notices it is kinda dark in there and decides to do something about it.
Another fun thing to think about is that kooky depressive attributional style. Which strangely enough has NOTHING to do with the actual lack of style that so many of those people who get hit by the depression bus lose. Or should I say: they "lose all sense of giving a shit about" style? Sometimes it's a fine line.
Anyhow this kind of style is like having a best friend that wants you to look like a loser, an absolutely disorganized slob. And like an anti-entourage, this friend works to keep chipping away at the ice cap known as cool exterior. Chipping ice makes it melt faster in case you didn't know.
Arm chair psychology is so much fun. Everyone should try it at home.
For all the studying, research participation, hours spent armpit deep in others studies and hypothesis up the ying-yang, I never took any specific courses in child psychology. I figured I'd never need something like that. Kids, schmids - give me the abnormal folk - now there are some peeps I can understand.
Not taking Paiget more seriously than how will this factoid be posed as an exam question: mistake # 1,298,712.
Holy crap - this is the WORST Monday Morning Inspirational I've written so far.
Um so yah, sometimes the truth won't set you free. Some days it will make you clamber to the back of the cage and cringe.
If you are looking for something lighter, I am talking about Barbara Walters sex life over at Binkywood... oh wait... that isn't much better is it now.