Who the hell am I? Who the hell are you and how did this ubiquitous leaping cockroach of a religion manifest from the anals (yes) of my mind into someone else's and onto paper? I feel as if I've been living my life knowing all these truths intuitively and come by this site and the things that entails the same way. That's not to say I ever really listen to that intuition that has done naught but guide me true when indulged. With every reason and every obvious benefit, it still looms oppressive that I stick to what I know rather than what I KNOW.
Which brings me to why I'm here, ultimately: Nothing seems real anymore. Sure. A common lament among the dreamy-eyed, lazy-ass ponderers with no actionable experience from which to draw that conclusion. So, too, is it nonetheless true that, in the course of my day-to-day, I pour untold amounts of energy into the world around me- The people that populate it for me; with me; against me; at my side, behind, and before me- and feel a right Quixote* when they look at me like I'm an idiot for caring about their wellbeing, happiness, and soul when they don't have time for that.
Which pisses me off like nothing else when I didn't have to bother to take the time in the first place. So why bother?
Which seems like an answer to the question in its own right, but what the fuck. I didn't care like this at one point in my life; had never felt the unyielding, burning energy of true and unconditional love. Never asked to. Now I've got these feelings and shit and no one gives me nothing but grief for them.
I don't want to leave those I care for behind, but what shall I do when they wont come with me where I'm needed? Neither can I hate them, for they are only living to their nature.
Also, I can cook. Like I was born to. Should I start a thread for simple recipes and dumb cooking questions? I'm a big user of 'scratch' methods, so be prepared to do the work to get the food just like the hunter gather-ers of old.
If anyone is interested, I also know a bunch of odd-and-end stupid human tricks and ultimately useless but intriguing knowledge that may or may not be true, and have a few unmarketable skills for curio.
Hi, Y'all. My name is Tom. Probably.
*(Here referenced for his Massive Genital Relative Gravity and it's propensity to attract only small bits of metal and debris rather than an appreciative, oiled, and [redacted] girl named Dulcinea. It ultimately caused his death a few kilometers south from La Mancha when, passing a free-energy windfarm, he was impaled about the crotchal region with a number of steel turbine blades)
