Will There Ever Be Answers?

What am I doing? What is the point of all this? Does anyone still read blogs anymore? Is the expression of opinion on the internet just an exercise in being a blowhard? Are there people with answers to self-doubting questions? Is there a level of arrogance to which I need to ascend in order to have answers rather than an insurmountable amount of questions that act like the quicksand that terrified me as a child?

What are the rules of attribution?  How many times can I violate them before I get internet arrested? Is this idea and picture so precious that nobody else could think of it?
What are the rules of attribution? How many times can I violate them before I get internet arrested? Is this idea and picture so precious that nobody else could think of it?

Is this a good idea? Why would I write a post like this composed entirely of rhetorical questions, opening myself up for unwanted answers? Should I expect that people will answer any one of these varied questions with a questions and then I’ll have to answer those questions with a question or should I answer those questions with a pithy one-word answer like a jerk to heighten the joke? Who could know if not me?

Who is a good boyDo people appreciate it when someone plays with the the dying genre of the blog? Would we all be better off if I and every other person blogging just succumbed to modern sensibilities and started a podcast or figured out whatever the hell Periscope is? Seriously, though, what is Periscope? Have I gotten to the age where something new comes out and I look at it like someone handed me a polaroid of grizzly bear making passionate love to a kangaroo with distended nipples? What’s the point of it? What was I referring to when I used the pronoun “it”?

Would we all be better in relationships if the person filled in our exact deficiencies? For example, if I were to date someone filled in all of my emotional gaps, wouldn’t that be more healthy than if I dated someone with similar codependent tendencies? Could we both be codependent yet still fit together like a jigsaw of depression? Have I tricked my significant other into liking me? Am I clever enough to have outwitted such a brilliant person for over a decade? I’ve been deluding myself since birth, so how hard could it be to delude another person? It’s like Malcolm Gladwell’s 10,000 hours making you an expert, does that mean my lying and creating a strange, illusion of my own self-meaning make me an expert in deluding others?

Am I and my mind the living embodiment of volitional torture? Could “self-reflection resulting solely in self-doubt that manifests in self-imposed, unnecessary stress,” stand as the definition of volitional torture?Really-High-Dog-Meme-Wonders-The-Big-Questions-About-The-Ball

When is it okay to give up? I ask all of these questions to a therapist and the response is, “How does that make you feel?” To which, I respond, “Is my inadvertent enrollment as a verbal flagellant (not flatulent, you goof) not enough of a clue as to my condition? Where are the answers!?! How can we redirect this leaky boat of a brain!?!”

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15 Comments

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  1. “Life is a cabaret, old chum.” There you have it — all questions and mysteries resolved. You’re welcome.

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  2. Hmmm. I have never heard of Periscope. I have never heard of a lot of things. Fortunately, I have reached the age of not caring. I like blogging. I read as many blogs as I can (unless I can’t stand the blogger). I don’t care if blogging dies. I’ll continue because blogging is my therapy. I don’t want to have a podcast because I can’t stand the sound of my voice. People ask me all the time if I’m from New York. NO! The answer is NO! I am a philistine and will not attempt to answer your esoteric questions. Neither will I ask you my own questions. I’m going to hop into bed and hold Willy Dunne Wooters as tightly as I can, and worry about nothing and no one. The following question comes from Yeats, and he wasn’t asking you: “And what rough beast, its hour come round at last, / Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born?” Many questions have no answers.

    Love,
    Janie

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  3. Are you sure you asked a therapist and it wasn’t the homeless guy at the park?

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  4. Oh good heavens, Pickleope…I’ll have these things rolling around in my mind today. I just got back from a long trip and trying to catch up, and now I have your crazy questions to ponder. Maybe I need the therapist! No, I’ll just go get a massage this afternoon, and all will be well.

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  5. The answers, my friend, are blowing in the wind. And also, the hokey pokey.

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  6. You’re supposed to act as though you have all the answers even if you don’t.

    That is what successful bloggers DO: They take the topic of the week, they express an opinion very, very strongly, and they don’t worry about whether they actually know anything about the topic.

    Listen to me: That IS the truth. That IS what bloggers do. That IS the answer.

    And anyone who says otherwise is what is wrong with this country and should be taken out and shot.

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  7. When you said “it,” Pickleope Von Pickleope, you were clearly referring to a grizzly bear making passionate love to a kangaroo with distended nipples. The point is at the nipple, and there are two distended ones. Did you really need the explanation? Did that help? Do you still have the Polaroid? Do they still make Polaroid cameras? Is that grizzly bear still making love to the kangaroo with distended nipples? Could he have that much stamina??

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