It's not unusual...

For me to drift into personal stuff on this blog. It is, after all, my blog and I'll do what I want with it (within the bounds of local, state, and federal law, that is).

But rather than bore you with all the details, I'll just say that today is not really a day for writing. A bad week turned worse, and since stoic Papa Hayduke has always warned against doing things under the influence of anger and despair, I'll let someone else do the writing. In this case, the Sage of Baltimore:

"A cynic is a man who, when he smells flowers, looks around for a coffin."

(Fortunately, I won't be reflecting over an open casket any time soon -- that was this week last year.)

I struggle everyday to control my cynicism -- it being the philosophy of those without faith, without hope and without passion, those scorned one time too many by injustice, and those who, frankly, just don't give a shit.

I'm beginning to think I'm wasting my time.