baggage's Diaryland Diary

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So you found a diary with really deep thoughts...

Hello.

I�ve been thinking.

(Yes-I do think on occasion. In a rare occurrence of miracles of the water-parting caliber-the occasional deep thought does run through my noggin.)

Anyways, I�ve been considering predictability.

Predictability and the human experience to be almost exact.

We are all individuals.

Individual thoughts, desires, pains.

We all have our own little personal window-seat to the world; tailor illusioned to our affinities, dislikes and every little shade of gray inhabiting the in-betweens.

But, really, as much we celebrate our own little custom-made mind-we�re fairly predictable.

Just strolling through diaryland proves it.

We all write about similar things. We all want similar things. We all hate similar things.

Yes-we all have different lives-but, if you boil matters down to the basics, the human experience is universal-at least for those of us who have computers, internet connections and the need to post our mental and emotional baggage on a public diary.

And this flies in the face of every little individualistic thought in my body.

By the way-this semi-really-deep-thoughts entry is brought to you by a red 2001 convertible sitting in the parking lot of this journalistic behemoth I love dearly.

I know the proud owner. He is easily one of coolest guys you�ll ever meet.

And he�s in his mid-40s. Married. With kids.

I think you can see the signpost up ahead.

One of us refers to this new monthly payment as a red, convertible $30,000 mid-life crisis.

And it makes me wonder.

We even have names for all these stages of our lives.

Puberty. Young adult. Adult. Middle life. Elderly.

Neat little terms that encapsulate within a few syllables all the intricacies of the human experience.

Proving, rather simply, how predictable we are.

So, the really-deep-question of the day is *what�s the point?*

Why struggle against our decisions, our loneliness, and our problems when it�s rather obvious that every little thing we feel and experience has been laid out before us by our parents, grandparents, great-grandparents etc?

It�s all happened before.

These days are old. These emotions recycled. These decisions made and remade.

It makes everything seems futile.

Like rebuilding houses of cards in the wind.

10:23 a.m. - 2001-08-24

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