Thursday, December 7, 2006

First Posting

Here I sit, like I am sure thousands before me have done, and ponder what words of wisdom I should open my blog with. There is a strong desire for them to be wise and deep. Another part of me wants them to be witty and clever. Yet another part of me wants it to be grammatically correct and spelled right.

As I read what I just wrote, a smile crosses my face. I, like all people, am the sum of my parts. My parts, though, I have recognized, classified and named. Allow me the time to introduce what makes me me to you.

I see myself as having three basic parts. The part that is typing this post is the "Poet". I am a quiet introspective man. Beauty can make me cry. I am empathetic to others. I can feel their joy and their pain. I am an encourager. I am weak and I don't care. I think in pictures and can not describe anything without drawing pictures. As I write I see the page as a canvas on which to paint my message. I am the heart, the seat of emotions. I am easily hurt and long to heal. I am selfless and vulnerable. I am love.

I am the Imp [everybody say hi to the Imp! "Hi Imp!!!"] I am the center of attention. I love calling attention to myself. I am selfish and I don't care. No, really, I don't care. I care only about me. Rules? Who needs them. They are there for the sport of evading them. I am the one who knows how to have fun. I laugh at bawdy jokes and I revel in my love for sensation: physical, emotional and even spiritual. I love new experiences. I am all over the place. Focus is not for me. Were it not for the Poet and Soldier's help, I could not write what I am writing here. The Poet is making me do this and the Soldier is making me do it right. I am done now. Somebody else's turn.

Seems the Imp has already introduced me. Somebody has to keep this group under control. I am not hampered by emotions, like the Poet. Neither am I reckless, like the Imp. Were it not for me nothing would ever get done. The Poet does not work and the Imp only works at mischief. Somebody has to bring home a paycheck. Somebody has to do what needs to be done. That is me. I am also responsible for the other two. I stand between the Poet and the world whenever he gets himself hurt. I am the protector. I also bind the the Imp. I keep him out of trouble even if he does not appreciate it. I do not need appreciation, though the Poet seems to enjoy it when I get it. This post is getting loo long. We should wrap it up here.

I, as a whole, have often noticed that when any one of the three of me becomes dominate or dominated, my life becomes unbalanced. Harmony of me is peace. Disharmony, is the seed of depression. But that is food for though for another post.


1 comment:

Stoned-Campbell Disciple said...

First let me thank you for coming by my blog a few times. I am glad I can return the favor.

Second, I too have a cacaphony of voices in my head from time to time, :-) Just who is the real Stoned-Campbell Disciple? And do I really want to know?

Wish I knew the real name ... but mystery is always worth while.

Bobby Valentine