I didn't want to be on facebook

If I could write whatever I wanted to write, completely uninhibited, what would I write? What words would I use? I think I'd be a rabid (not rapid.. i meant rabid) fire-hose of simultaneous happy and sad. I wonder if I'd be surprised by what came out. I wonder if you would be surprised. I wonder what things I'd really mean, and what thoughts I think I think but I'm really just playing around.. or my brain is playing with me and I haven't stopped to notice it yet. It's amazing how much weight some things carry and they're not even true and I don't even mean them. I just feel them. They SEEM legitimate, but are as troublesome and non-existent as.. as.. the magic hot air balloon in my backyard. Sometimes I wonder at Paul when he said he didn't even judge his own heart because guiltiness or guiltlessness is not an accurate indication of guilt. I hear people talk about consciences, and I agree. Sort of. But I also don't. Paul didn't depend on his conscience. At least just not all the time. Not completely. But how do you know when to and when not to? Ah. That is a good question. I wish I had a proverbial "red flag" resident in my head, so that whenever I thought something that wasn't true, the flag would go up and I'd be aware. Aware that something not true was about to be inserted into my psyche in an attempt to bring me under it's influence, to alter my mind and therefore my very being. As a man thinks in his heart... so is he. Real. True. Ah.. imagine a world where the only things there were the real and true things. We could rest. We wouldn't have to weed through false advertising. We wouldn't have to dis-trust. Mis-trust. We wouldn't have to question motives and wonder about spin doctors' crazy abilities to sell us things that will harm us. I only wonder if it would still be difficult to accept the truth. And yet while Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life... the greatest is faith, hope, and love. Did I just compare oranges with a mazda pickup truck? Make frustration your friend, the psychiatrist said. So how do we end this? I was trying to write to wind down the day (I know. Isn't it funny. Wind - as to propel in circles to tighten or loosen, as well as wind - the invisible currents of air set in motion through collisions of hot and cold air pockets are both spelled the same. But I can't wind down, I can only wind down. Oh words you are my friends, yet even you are elusive and imprecise little rascals). "Wisdom, wisdom, I love you more than gold. All my life I'll search for you until I'm very old." - Little Tree