Something strange has happened to my blog. I made some sort of template mistake. It has all gone awry. I like it this way. Topsy turvy upside down. As usual, I must react to every environment. My reaction to the blogging world is to be annoyed with the emphasis on visuals, the genre identification, the teenage appeal for attention. I'm sure it will pass. I am nothing but a reaction to what everyone else cares about. When people care about what they serve at dinner parties (like my former roomate) then it becomes necessary for me to throw dinner parties where I serve frozen food. I live to react to the foibles of everyone else. What's my problem? Am I trying to be above it all? Does it all go back to the trauma of high school. Going from the poor inner city public school to the wealthy Catholic school. The girls wore izods. I wore Le Tigre. They had Bass boat shoes. What did I have? Can't quite recall. Some kind of K-Mart sneakers I believe. And because of these girls and their impeccable grooming I did not shave my legs for 10 years. Then, upon entering a feminist environment I began to bikini wax. Well, I suppose something must shape our choices. Much of what we pursue is chosen for arbitrary reasons..mere chance...preference simply is a matter of chance. I could either like it because everyone else does or because it makes everyone else slightly uncomfortable. The rejection of others to a particular preference for some reason makes the thing rejected appear in an attractive light to me.

There are times when this tendency has its drawbacks. For example...when I sabotage my own career in subtle ways by going to the amazon or staying up all night to watch Children of the Corn III instead of working like I should. Just because I am not supposed to.

Now there's a little psychoanalysis for you! Hey! That is the reason I do it? Maybe I'm getting to the bottom of things quicker than I thought. I've always wondered: If it says 'wet paint' why do I always touch it. If it says 'no parking' why must I park there?

Because when you do what you are not supposed to you become more aware of your own freedom? Maybe it is all because I am not supposed to? But who is in charge here really?