purpose.

Does every little thing in your life have its own qualifying purpose? Nothing is done without motive or reason?

Such as blogs. I very much enjoy hitting the "next blog" button and coming across musings from across the world, or possibly my back yard, but that is less and less the case. The photography journals are nice, but does no one have anything to say* anymore? Maybe it's pretentious of me. I have something to say. But I often, if not always, do.

Every blog I come across is either the Smith Family Chronicles, or something of the sort...a business related blog...be it photography, bakery, handbags...or an ancient piece where once someone painted their soul on the walls of the cave, only it is now deserted and dark as a tomb, no longer circulating air.

But then, its possible no one is interested in the trivial things in life...for example, that Blue is dancing around the aquarium to Borodin: Nocturne (from my 5 cd set of Ultimate Classical Chill Out) but me. Now it looks like all the fish are dancing. Swimming is dancing? Would walking and breathing be the dance of life, then? If only I were graceful. If there is one thing I am truly not, it's graceful. Take a picture from the waste down and each week there would be a new pattern of blotchy half-healed or just purpling bruises. It's charming, if you get me. Don't bother if you don't. 

I often wonder if everything that seems relevant or of substance in our culture today was based on something so trivial in our previous, intuitive without language and of the mother earth, society. Like...high heels. Yesterday I was making tea in the kitchen and felt the floor with my bare feet was cold and dirty. I began walking on my tip toes with some type of fluidity in order to avoid discomfort. And I wondered, what if that's where it truly stems from? the basic instinctual act of women gracefully avoiding discomfort of their feet from dirty home-bases and such trials so long ago. It could be that we would have chosen this pose naturally when it was necessary and now are unnaturally forced into it for the pleasure of... men, social standing.. .fashion... whatever. All because we did it of our own accord, from the type of natural personalities we posses, and it was never forgotten for us as fluidity and for men -well - an excellent shot of our ass.

Well, that's enough wasting your time.