2015-10-03

We Just Want To Win...

...am up, as in awake, still.  Have tried to sleep twice now and it isn't working.  My body is a mess: I worked too hard today.  My doctor would be all over me with stern but professional caring if she knew what I did today.  I hurt.  But that is not keeping me awake, not really.

My mind won't shut off...  It won't make sense either.  I mean, all my thoughts make sense, but they don't finish.  Any given thought gives rise to a tangent thought which then becomes the focus, which means the last thought just dropped into the nether world, probably to be encountered again at some similar cognizant node.

So I make a pan of brownies.  Off to the little white cabinet, pull out the box I got at the Dollar Store five weeks ago along with the small plastic bottle of vegetable oil. Grab the 9x13 cake pan that I got at the same place for three bucks.  Then to the tiny white fridge for the butter and eggs.  I check the box to make sure I know how much of what to use:  Two eggs: that is easy.  A third of a cup of water, and two thirds cup of oil.  Pre-heat the gas stove I yanked out of the camper in which I resided all last summer after the transplant and half of this summer...but that is another tangent....focus Wes.  Your drifting again....

I don' have a measuring cup, so guess at the oil and water amounts.  Grab the box again to see what temp the oven is supposed to be at.  350...  ...my eyes drift to the nutrition listing on the box, then to the ingredients:  Good God!   One would think that flour, sugar and cocoa would be about it.  Someone decided that fudge brownies should have other stuff in them.  And some of the ingredients MIGHT be included, or not.  I guess it must be up to whether or not they have this in stock today, or if the have that in stock today.

I check out the bottle of vegetable oil: Same shit.  Might have some stuff, certainly has other stuff, some of which hurt my teeth to pronounce out loud.  I realize that the only thing I can count on are the eggs.  I know where they came from, right here on the Farm.

I check Face Book:  There are several conversations I have glommed onto:  The recent 10 dead in Oregon, Monsanto's new solution to super weeds.... and I realize that, as is often the case, the conversations quickly devolve into two general themes, as if there are two sects of the same religion, both worshiping the God of Right, but disagreeing about the Right part.

...my mind drifts... Right.  I long ago determined that Right is God's territory, not human kinds.  We just don't have that capability.  Too many variables for our limited minds.  We can sometimes get things Good, but only by chance do we get things Right.  I gave up on Right.  I am satisfied with managing some good now and again.

Why is that?  I used to fight, argue, malign, slander, libel ...whatever it took to get it Right.  Now I don't give a shit.  There is no right.  And yet I find that everyone wants to be right, everyone wants to win.

We are not looking for solutions: We are arguing about the problem.  Some use data, some use ethics and morality.  Some use both.

But it seems to me that it is not about finding a solution, finding what might be good.  No, we would rather be Right.  And as long as we argue about what is Right, we are highly unlikely to do much fucking good.

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...drifting... back to the brownies now in the oven with my phone counting down the time to when they are supposed to be done.  Is making brownies the Right thing to do?  Hell!  I don't know!  Seems good to me at the moment.  ....oh yeah.... I just remembered: I don't give a shit.
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....drifting.... I recall driving my rig through Korea back in '85.  The mountains are beautiful, the roads are narrow and the load on my trailer is dangerously loose.  I come around a corner, downshifting because the brakes are already hot.  Half way through the corner I stomp the brakes and yank the handle on the trailer brakes as well.... I come to a stop not 10 feet from some goofy old guy in rags with a walking stick, traipsing down the middle of the road: And I mean the middle.  If those roads had center lines, this SOB would be stumbling along right on it.  WTF!

I climb down out of the cab to make sure he is OK.  Maybe he needs some toilet paper or something.  I sure would have if I was him, but then I would not be walking in the middle of the bloody road either...

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Memory interuptus... brownies are supposed to be done according to my phone... I check.  Nope, set the phone for another eight minutes.  No idea where I got that number, it just showed up in my fractured thoughts.  ....an even number...  ...shit!  I am drifting again... forget the number!
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....the old Korean guy just smiles at me when I ask if he is OK.  He does not speak English.  I could have looked concerned and called him every name in the book and he would have just smiled....and simply walked around the truck, staying as close to the center of the road as was possible, walking stick clicking on the tarmac.  I shake my head, cuss him under my breath, get back in the semi and cuss him some more.  He just does not care, I think to myself.  He does not care if he get smeared all over the road by a thirty five thousand pound vehicle.  He does not care whether he lives or dies.  He does not give a shit that if I killed him, I would end up in the brig, lose rank, lose my chance at an honorable discharge...  what right does he have not to care!  Why the middle of the God damned road!?

He is not unique.  A lot of old men in Korea do this.  Simply wander about making an impediment of themselves, getting in the way of all that needs to be done.  They don't care, I think....

And here I am, some thirty years later, realizing that those old fools do care.  They do want to live.....

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Realization interuptus.... the brownies again....  what did I do with the damn fork!?....  Still aren't done... .  Clearly the folks that put the instructions on the box must have also been the ones who stated that 'maybe' some things might be included in the ingredients.  Morons!  .....
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...and I want to live too.  But I no longer want to play the game.  I don't want to do it the way it is 'supposed' to be done.  I want to do it the way that it makes sense.  I don't want to do it the Right way.  I want to do it so that maybe some good comes from it.....  I want to be part of coming up with a solution.  Knowing that the solution will last only until the problem mutates into some other form of itself, forcing a modification to the solution.  And that is why there is no Right.  Right is static.  It is binary.  It is immutable.  Our Right is Wrong!

...drifting.... I wonder about the Heaven that my slowly dying father does so look forward to.  I hope for him that it is what he yearns for.  I hope for me to.  Endless perfection is not heaven to me.  Endless perfection seems static.  I don't think heaven is static....   ...don't know where that came from either..... another fucking tangent...  focus Wes!  Geez!

I don't want to win, I don't want to be Right.   I just want to walk down the middle of the road....

...the brownies are done.....