I hope to quell some of the mental unrest I have been coming across by tossing out a phrase that I have heard both agreed and disagreed with, but never disproven:

Existence exists.

(I recommend getting used to it.)

Agree? Disagree?

There are options.

-Draw your swords and your lines in the sand.

-Think about it and see where it goes.

I'm not going to tell you to do either.

I'm not going to tell you not to bind your hands for the rest of your life.

Because you never know, using your hands could be bad, or something. I mean, sure they're already there, and you may have succumbed to using them once or twice already, but it might not be too late.

So I was taking a shower and thinking about what I had just written...

When I realized that somewhere back there I had stepped up onto my soapbox and completely deviated from what I had intended to reflect upon. Now as much as I love my soapbox, I can still see my footprints in the thick dust that had gathered on it. I try to avoid that thing since I'm afraid of very short heights. Well, what I'm really afraid of is that I'll get seriously hurt falling an incredibly short distance to the ground. Then I'll have to limp, wheel, or be wheeled around constantly explaining how I got so hurt.

"Whoa, what happened to you?!"

"I was tossing and turning in my sleep and I rolled out of my bed."

"All you did was roll out of a bed?!"

"Geez, lay off me! I landed on my cell-phone, all right?"

Heh, (off-topic once again.) After my sister was born (eighteen years ago) I shared a room with the two of my brothers that existed the time. We had a bunk bed and a regular bed. We would alternate beds regularly. This was due in large part to one of us having broken off the side-guard board on the wooden bunk bed. None of us wanted to sleep on that top bunk.

It was rough for everyone. There I would be, sleeping peacefully, only to have my slumber interrupted by this Whoosh! I would often wake up just in time to see one of my brothers hurtling past me and landing with a Whump! on the floor.

If the dim glow of the nightlight revealed a dazed and confused Miguel (my older brother) I would just chuckle quietly and make a mental note to scratch another notch into the bedpost.

If it was my younger brother Donaldo, I would wiggle over in my bed to make room for him so that he wouldn't be awake all night being afraid that he would fall again. It was never funny when he fell.

Don't you go feeling bad for Miguel now. He always hogged the Nintendo.

"C'mon, Miguel, it's a two-player game!"

"Shut up, Memo. Go find your own game."

And that would usually remind me to make that notch on the bedpost.

* * * *

And yes, I also had my share of rude awakenings. I was never hurt, and neither was anyone else. Our parents didn't even knew about it. I got good at falling, though. Sometimes I would go to sleep at night on the top bunk and wake up in the morning under the bottom bunk, refreshed and ready to start my day. It got to the point that I could wake up the instant before I rolled off the side, usually with enough time to keep myself from going over. Usually. And I could identify which brother it was by the Whump! they made.

Final Thoughts:

The stress, frustration, angst, turmoil or whatever it is people feel when they try to figure things out is to be expected. It isn't just some general existential discontent that comes with musing on the Hows and the Whys.

Just break down what's happening into Melting Pot-style chunks:

Trying to understand in and of itself is not upsetting. With understanding comes acceptance.

Admit it, the real reason you're getting all stressed is because what you really want to know is what's going to happen next.

And even though you don't know what's going to happen, you already want to change it because you won't be able to once it does happen.

And when something happens that you never expected (which will be often, if you never learn to expect anything) it becomes quite tempting to assume all existing sources of information are faulty (even ones that allow for error) instead of admitting that you didn't want that to just happen and it did anyway.

It's a lot like that old bunk-bed.

If I knew I was going to fall off, well, then I'd know I was going to fall off. That's the end product right there. As good as it gets. That's what you'll come up with every time. Is that appealing? I don't know.

I'll have to wait until my next shower to finish thinking about it.