Respect An Empty Bottle.

It's different being left alone.  It will remind you of your choices.  I read somewhere that Immanuel Kant walked the same path everyday... people could 'set their watches to it'.  What if Kant had a love?  What if he had children?  Would he be the same Kant we know today?  Would he realize that his categorical imperative would have more than one category?

To be a fly on the wall is a good thing in my life right now.  I'm no anthropologist.  But, I feel as though I have a closer connection than most to the human script.  I enjoy observing; imbibing on human emotion more than I used to enjoy alcohol.  In my youth, I felt that alcohol was the way to relate.  Now, I just enjoy it for it's taste.  Regardless if people are intoxicated, they want to see and feel an open ear.  My dad always said, "Son, you know how you make friends?  Ask them about themselves!"  Brilliant... and that's the truth of it.

The Kantian prospective is something I have adhered to since I was first informed of it.  I had been told of religion and the magic it held.  I had been shown the depths of love as any youthful optimist would believe.  But there was something about being in Frank Fair's philosophy class at SHSU that reminded me of the life lessons I had always known, just never knew how to put into words.  Respect is the maxim for which all other life deems itself 'civilized'.  A beings gotta eat.  Survival of the fittest.  So on and so forth... but mark my words; one cannot love without respect first.  It adheres above all.  This is what our 'founding father' Thomas Jefferson once quoted: "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it."   I believe in that more than I believe in anything.  

Two things...

One: If you're in good conversation and you feel like you have to go smoke, then you'll be missing out.

Two: It's better to verbally reflect upon nostalgia after the moment has passed rather than within the moment.  This allows you to live within the moment.

When the mind is distracted, ALWAYS fill your hands.

The mind is a wondrous being.  You can be in the middle of your crowded mind, yet feel in isolation.  This solitude can lead one to parts of the mind one wishes to move past.  I say "move past" because one cannot remove these secret rooms; they are as perminent as the cornerstones of the being's mind.  One must learn to walk with grace down the hallway which contains these rooms.

Entering these rooms is at one's own fate.  I believe if one has traversed the hallway long enough, passing to and frow in front of these rooms, one may be safe to enter.  But if one is merely curious; if one becomes distracted, then the hour glass is broken.  It's as if it's game over, like it's a new hallway. 

One must fill there hands.  What is that... "Idle hands..."?  Something about fondle? Fonder?  WE human beings and our minds...  Fill my hands with the love of my life.  Fill them with my family.  Fill them with music.  Fill them with friendship.  Fill them with a cool, deserving can of beer after a long hot sweaty day in the sun. Fill them with the memory that one has the strength to walk down the long hallway, past his secret rooms, with his back straight; his head held high.  Fill my hands with these things, and I will earn the respect of my own mind.