The Epiphany about Epiphanies

     I have recently come to the realization of all supposed realizations. This realization had me wondering why I even bother to have said other realizations.
     One word: subjectivity. If the world is viewed differently by each person, we can either attempt to seek out those who do see it sort of similarly, endeavor to juxtapose ourselves with people different than ourselves to immerse ourselves in some twisted version of a learning experience, or give up all together. The logical answer is to give up. As my roommate and I have recently discovered, trying only causes trouble. Let me explain. I say this because, no matter how close you think you've come to finding that one person who is similar enough to you but different enough so you don't piss yourself off with too much "you," there really is no perfect match. What you think is right is 3% wrong in his or her mind and if you multiply this by the 3/7 subjectivity variability, you might as well be a manic monster in his or her mind of regularity. Though, in this case, one could argue that life would not exist without controversy to rough up the edges of an implausible utopia. Yeesh. Anyways...if we as humans are able to recognize the fact that no matter what, we will be different, why can we not just move past this as a human race? Acknowledge it, be sad for ten minutes, spring back, and get over it. Is this not a sequence that we can learn to accept? Nope. No, no, no, it is not (well, maybe you can, but think about whose blog you're reading).
     I, for one, get into quite a few arguments. Not bad ones, but the sort that the debate team would stage in high school. Except I wasn't on the debate team. Anyways, the difference between myself and the other person I frequently find myself in mortal combat with is that I get over it. I practically forget why I'm angry in under ten minutes almost every time without fail. Why must grudges exist? Why mash up your feelings into some sort of deathly fireball...spikes and all? This may come off as a level of disinterest and the possibly existence of a sociopath inside me but, should I care that people think that? Please do allow yourself to be bothered as I sit in the corner caring less. Ok, now I sound pompous; I really don't even know that many big words. There's a reason why I always have Thesaurus.com tabbed on my computer.

Sometimes I Seem Uninterested?

      So I usually wake up at 7:30 every morning with a stomach ache. This is probably from all the unintentionally hard thinking I do every night into the oddest hours of each morning. My days are either extreme or incredibly unremarkable and range from life decision-making to pounding my fist on a table upon discovering that no, I really cannot decide which two gelato flavors I should get. The days usually start out slowly with two eggs, hopefully some cheese, toast, and three or five strawberries (even numbers won't do). If nothing strikes me metaphorically (or sometimes literally) across the face whilst I perform my morning activities, I usually go on to accomplish nothing and do so with such a "heart-on-sleeve" lack of ambition that scares off any morning action-seekers. Once I have bored away any potential morning suitors, I take a standing nap after a simple carbohydrate-filled lunch and continue with usual afternoon activities. Dinner happens, evening parties happen, and then I come back.
     And this is when it happens. Whoever the lucky or unlucky person is who I decide to speak to on Facebook or on the phone has, at this point, unknowingly sent me into a spiral of thought and cogitation. To this day I do not know what starts me off a' pumpin, but something about the blackness of the night allows me to think my thinkiest thoughts. Days remain relatively unproductive as I subconsciously yearn for nighttime and all of the emptiness it has to offer to a mind found claustrophobic by day. I say this while realizing how dangerous my mind is, how I really should stay in the sunlight, and how I should never start conversation with not-so-close friends after 9 p.m.
    So this is essentially what happens: I halfheartedly make decisions while the sun is out, go out, dance a little, come back, and then sit down and really pound them out. But wait, everyone I have just made late night engagements with will hate me, yes? Denny's really is important to some people. This is when the moral dilemmas come in. Is it my fault that I am incapable of making a committed decision at certain hours of the day? Rather, that I am solely capable of making proper ones at another certain hour of the day? I have told people about this very specific process my mind goes through. But, of course that can't band-aid up all the booboos I have just re-opened after what appeared to outsiders as a "fruitful"day of decision making. People are also frightened by the werewolf that is my nighttime brain. Stepping on the sidewalk is to scaring lizards away as talking to people about my mind is to scaring humans away (now, re-read that to take it all in). Some people view this as my having a "grass-is-always-greener" complex, my over analyzing and such. I see it as Thesaurus.com being friendlier to me only at times when humans no longer care that I just found the proper words and syntactical structure to express my insides on the outside.
    Stream of conscience post? Absolutely. Sorry it had to be the first one after a period of non-posting. I do my best, and I am sure that a brimming maximum of four people will read this. Score.