From My Brain to Yours

 I still can't wrap my head around pain. Pain and suffering and death feel so foreign, so out of place in my life, and I'm sure that in itself is a privilege. I guess at some point you just have to get used to the fact that there is bad in the world, maybe even the fact that the world itself is bad.  But if we look at the world as a bad place where bad things happen, where does that leave us? If everything is arbitrary, what's the point? Are we just skating by on pure luck until one day we run out? My existential ramblings are nothing novel, I'm sure; the human condition is made up almost entirely of wondering why we're in this condition in the first place. There's something rather juvenile about the lens through which I view life. It's as though the minute it dawned on me that bad things do and will happen to people I know and love I started thinking of that as some sort of dream. If you separate pain from reality, it becomes distant. But it doesn't go ...

 As I'm not one who seeks out to be scared, come Halloween I'm never quite prepared. Though blood and guts and gore may fascinate my thoughts on that are much less love than hate. However, through the years on me it's grown and certainly in this I'm not alone. I love the autumn joy of making crafts I float across fall winds upon my raft. Creation brings a new birth amidst rot and so I'm grateful now for what I've got. The charm of hallow's eve just doesn't lie in looking up as ghosts and spirits fly, but rather in my little living room where building costumes lifts me from my gloom. But I suppose by any means I've come to the conclusion shared by more than some. I've joined the ranks of folks whose eyes do gleam whenever they hear talk of Halloween.