The Dilbert In Me

Jeremy sent me a link to a post by Scott Adams. He sent it to me because Scott is talking about a sort of correspondance-based art school, which I had some books from. Said books did not make it up here when I moved. Nor when the rest of my stuff arrived at Thanksgiving. Instead, they've been sitting in Jeremy's house. He'd kept them for me when they didn't fit in the truck, and then mistakenly didn't get them into the second truck. No biggie. I would like the books, but don't really need them in a terrible hurry. They weren't even mine originally, they were my Mom's. I hauled them around less because I liked the books, and more because I just felt I'd need them one day. Sarah said "I've never seen you look at these, do they have to make it into this load or can you live without them for a few months?" For the first time in my life, I felt like I didn't need them near me, so I said yes.

And that's where this gets interesting to me. Scott Adams' post isn't really about those art-school books. Hell, I wouldn't have even known it was the same course, if Jeremy didn't point it out. His post is instead about prophecy, arguably of the self-fulfilling variety, and about coincidence (or the lack thereof). It's about how he, all his life, knew he would one day become a Cartoonist living in San Francisco. This was less a goal, and more a thing he just knew would happen.

Suffice it to say, this parallels my life in ways I've never spoken of publicly before. It may be self-fulfilling, it may be (as Adams also acknowledges) selective memory, or it may be terribly incredibly powerful and meaningful.

Lately, I find myself pondering and growing comfortable with one of those quotes I mentioned a few posts ago. "Is there such a thing as positive, uplifting delusions?" Provided I'm not some crazy fool who lets the coincidences of his life carry him to an armed compound in waco, and that my "voices" (metaphorical only - they've never been actual voices) don't start telling me to hurt people, perhaps it's okay to acknowledge them and no longer fear them. I think I'll wait till Sarah gets home tonight, revisit the topic with her more thoroughly than ever before, and see if she thinks I'm likely to be tarred and feathered.

I got hurt several years back for sharing my insights. That clammed me up for years. Lately, I've shared tales of ghosts on this very blog, and no one drove me out of town or even stopped associating responding to me for it. I've spoken a bit about my religious beliefs, and while it lead to some tense conversations, it all worked out for the best. Maybe we're actually bordering on a time in my life where I can be honest with more than just one person. That would be nice.

Don't expect more than this here, at least not any time soon. I'm just testing the waters - and checking to see if there's any great messages, written there by unknown hands in the sand and the surf.

p.s.: Jeremy, please mail me the books as you offered, I suddenly feel I need them again.