It's all about me. WTF, it's MY blog.

Stream of Conscience-less would be a great title for several of this year's Republican presidential wannabe's autobiographies. Hey, just sayin'.

Stream of consciousness is what I would call what I am about to write if, in fact, it was delivered as a nice steady thought flow and I could, additionally, lay claim to full consciousness, two occurrences seriously unlikely to happen. I will persist and persevere, nevertheless, because following the completion of this blog, I have a rigorous physical workout planned and that needs to be delayed for as long as MY conscience will allow. That said, I now await the "stream" to begin.

I'm still waiting.

Here's my "Inconvenient Truth": My best ideas occur at inopportune moments. Moments when I am unable or unwilling to write them down. Allow me to explain. Unable means in the shower, driving, or restraining my dogs on a walk. Unwilling means I'm half asleep and prefer to chase the other half to becoming fully awake and having to start the fall asleep process anew. Well, either that or I am in coitus and the best idea there is to not stop to take notes. I am also plagued by occasionally having a complex idea that has to be followed to its conclusion. An interruption to that thought changes it or chases it away. The problem that then ensues is that when I try to recapture my idea in all its complexities later, it as, as they say, a no hope-er. This state of affairs I like to blame on age but, in truth, it has been ever thus.

All the above is an explanation for why you are not getting my best ideas, but merely my second and third best. The difference between my best and second best is the difference between Nobel Prizes and "We are unable to publish your manuscript at this time because, frankly Sir, it sucks." Or, at least, I like to think so. Self delusion is, after all, what gets me through the day. The shunned reality is, I am still aspiring to "it sucks."

Here is an idea that is just short of Nobel worthy if by "just short" I mean it has about the same chance as I have of snaring gold in this year's Olympic Decathalon. It's but a smidgeon out of reach. I've been thinking about reinventing the original me. Some of you reading this may remember that I was once a very social person; a little shy, but still...social. The move to rural Colorado some years ago began the transformation of my own self to a somewhat, but not entirely, quieter more withdrawn type. I wasn't "out there" much because there wasn't much "out there" to be had in that environment. When Woowoo Charly and I moved to Panama, the transformation was completed and I became fully reinvented as a stay at home, read, write and think (if you can call it that) person, a calmer inside, less manic variety. Enneagrammers would say I now inhabit my Five "higher mind" space. Lately, though, I have been feeling restless. Maybe because it is sort of Spring here in Panama and Spring is a time of renewal or maybe I just want to see if what I think is possible, IS possible. I have been obsessed, as my last two stories, Miss Polanski and the other one,(I've forgotten the title. Neither story was memorable) indicate, with the concept of opposites attracting. Certainly my introverted wife was drawn initially to my more extroverted self and vice versa. We were dependent upon each other for the longest time to supply qualities the other lacked. I provided energy, she stillness, and it's been a wonderful merger throughout the years. Lately though, as I've noted while the Nobel Committee anxiously awaits, I contemplate returning to some kind of older replica of my original self.

So far, though, in case you are wondering and why wouldn't you be at such a fascinating inner dialogue that ranks up there with whatever is going through The Thinker's mind while he sits and, you know, thinks, I have not gotten past the contemplation stage. Maybe, just maybe, I am simply entering one of those "Seasons of Life" one hears so often about. Or is it? I guess we shall see. Or I will anyway.

Author's note: I warned you in the title it was all about me!