No structure, no reason, no rhyme, no point, just me typing.

I want to know everything. I want to go everywhere. I want to do everybody… thing… damnit… I want to do everything. If I had my way, I would experience it all. I would be an expert at everything. I would never stop truckin’. Unfortunately, I can’t do it all. I am limited by time and resources. We are all limited, as such; therefore, we must prioritize.

What contributes most to my happiness? Generally, things that fulfill me and leave me with a tingly accomplished feeling contribute to prolonged/long-term happiness. That’s just me, though. I have a typical engineer’s mind that likes to plan things out and identify future impacts of decisions I make today.

Others prefer the things that provide more immediate satisfaction, more of a “live in the now” philosophy. That’s cool, too. I could learn from those spontaneous ways.

Keep one eye on the future and one eye on the now.

You’re fingers smell like green butt hole. Have you been picking Yoda’s ass lately?

As a father, I will be known for trite and ridiculously cliché fragments of wisdom and advise. Not just spoken advice, but advice implied from actions. That seams to be how all fathers are remembered. Irony: Nobody ever takes their father’s advice; they just look back and say, “Shit, I should’ve listened to dad.”

My dad once laid out his priorities for me. I remember them exactly:

1. Personal spiritual health
2. Personal mental health
3. Personal physical health

The moldy wisdom starts with the whole corny spirit-mind-body trifecta and continues with:

4. Others’ spiritual health
5. Others’ mental health
6. Others’ physical health

See, son, before you can truly help others you must first help yourself. …or some other variation on the prosaism. Clichés spiced with clichés all wrapped up in a cliché tortilla. This too is my destiny.

Friday… Friday… Friday… Friday makes me happy. Does Friday make everyone happy? Not necessarily. Is there anything that is universally happy? Is there something out there that makes everybody ecstatic? I’m coming up empty. Happiness is subjective. Like beauty, happiness lies in the eye of the beholder. (Re-read and note that last sentence as I will invariably spout it off to Lori someday and she will add it to her catalogue of fatherly banalities.) I can tell you what makes my dad happy: numbers 1-6, above, in that order. I can tell you what makes me happy. And, if you tell me then I can tell you what makes you happy.

If rootbeer makes me happy and cola makes you happy, who is morally superior? I am, obviously. If I like Rocky and you like The Rocky Horror Picture Show, who is morally superior? ME! If hunting makes me happy and operating a wildlife sanctuary makes you happy, who is morally superior? I am. If masturbating in public makes me happy and having sex in the dark with eyes closed makes you happy, who is morally superior? Once again, me. Based upon what makes me happy, I write the rule of acceptable and unacceptable. As long as I live by my rules then I’m morally good to go.

My urine smells like chicken. I wonder what chicken urine smells like.

I cannot off-handedly tag you as morally bankrupt (unless making rash proclamations makes me happy). You write your own manifesto on life. As long as you live accordingly then you’re good to go, also.
...and so it was written, shenry at 7/18/2003 01:19:00 PM.
...and so it was appended with .