the Unexpressed Advantage

Well I just came to a point today where I was compelled to blog. I'm beginning to wonder if it's an addiction. Now that nearly everyone on earth has a blog it's not like there's anything special about it anymore. Just a crazy cyber spaced land where everybody is competing for attention on their blogs and myspace pages. And I suppose I’m as guilty of that narcissistic crime as anyone else.

In my defense though I think there's something else that motivates. I love my friends who check up on me here, but I'd probably (at this point) still post even if there were 0 (zero) readers. Just something about the way the brain takes a situation and turns it into a little piece of prose. Makes life a little more interesting, I guess.

Take for instance the Phil Collins induced romantic coma that my brain disappeared into for a few minutes this afternoon. As mentioned earlier, Nobody quite does it for me like Phil; and as I quickly tired of the Latin pop random mix on my (little music type box) I just decided to focus on one artist – back to Phil. The lyrics that captivated me from the song "Strangers Like Me," off of Disney's Tarzan soundtrack…

every gesture, every move that she makes she makes me feel like never before why do I have this growing need to be beside her…

Such a sweet and simple description. Did you forget I was a romantic? Just a little, anyway. Of course the song isn't really even speaking about love then is it? If you saw the movie you remember that this is Tarzan's "discovery" phase where he realizes that he actually ISN'T a monkey and there's something else going on out there beyond the jungle.

But then again, haven't we seen the movie? Isn't there something else going on during the song as well? Some kind of deeper feeling that's more than about being not a monkey but something about being a man and then encountering a woman? Because he's certainly not a woman either; and I’m pretty sure something develops there in the end, but I can't remember.

Man, I'd hate to be Tarzan, that guy's got a pretty stressful life right there. Not like mine, pretty stress free in terms of the "coming to terms with my identity in light of my ape parents and now experiencing romantic feelings with a previously unknown species called 'woman' for the first time" department. But there are other stresses…

The point is, I suppose, that Phil Collins is rad (yes, rad) and his music makes me a little mushy and I probably am going to go rent that movie tonight and then watch it alone on my widescreen monitor.

But that releases the blog energy sufficiently, sadly I didn't get to deal with all the other topics on my mind such as: new cornbread (fantastic!) and chili (not so good…) recipes, why is there an Ayn Rand book listed on my blog, Joash's killer birthday party, diary of a worship leader, and our recent "death of the sponge bob piñata" ordeal.

I'd like to tell you all that I'm going to get to those topics ASAP, but unfortunately according to my friends – and the Meyers Briggs test – I'm a "P", so odds are I’m probably not going to. Oh well, at least I have a self-actualized excuse

– D-zan