That number, 21115, unfortunately, is an actual number. Among the trillion silly things on the web is a "Days Lived" calculator. And yes, that's my Days Lived. So now you can all figure out how old I really am. But I'm not alarmed. You know what they say, "21115" is the new "10957", right?
Terrific, eh? I'm sure that 21115, in numerological terms, are a gazillion combinations that spell out when to gamble, spawn, or propose. Not only do I not want to know what 21115 means, I don't really want to know that number at all. I mean, it's a really big number. And it's getting bigger and bigger. I only looked it up as a way to begin this blogging project. A jumping off point, as it were, metaphorically, I hope. I live in a 2 story structure, so jumping off of it would just mess me up, and day 21116 and thereafter would suck.
Imagine having a digital clock or watch that had that "Days Lived" number on it. Ticking away, getting bigger and bigger. Watching those digits march past, never to back up, slow down, or better, pause.
The only thing worse, I suppose, would be a digital clock counting out how much time you had left. Now that would suck.
So I'm going to start writing about my life, as much as can be disclosed without invading tooo much privacy or hurting people that may or may not deserve it. I have been alive for 21115 days, and though I can only remember what happened on maybe 2% of them, those days I do remember are just plain crazy.
And here is what I mean by "crazy": When the road in front of you does not, in any way, match the map in your hands.
When you've lived long enough to see Grand Events come Full Circle. (I have never seen the circle closing until it has slammed around my neck.)
When you realize that people, as a rule, dash, stumble, trudge and march in this life, without a clue which way they're moving.
And most of that kind or craziness is funnier than hell.
But there's another kind of craziness, the dark kind. The kind of craziness that has made our society so all about Me. You know, you don't let the guy in the car behind you cut in front of you on the freeway ramp, yeah, he's a dick, but you don't let him in, because you're in Your Car, and Your Car is in Front. See? Crazy nuts.
So I'm gonna explore this Craziness. Crazy things I've done, crazy things I've observed. And the perfect venue for this is Blogging. But there's an inherent problem with blogging.
Blogging is the ultimate in self-something, I haven't figured that out yet. Promotion? Self-indulgence? I don't know. Is it crazy to think what I have to write about is at all important? I mean there a gazillion blogs out there already, right?
I'll get back to you on that. When I hit Blog 21115.
