The Public Domain

A consideration: http://25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mdclr3yqCa1qz4d4bo1_500.gif

Appeal to the masses isn't what I really want to talk about, partly because we see it too much in politics, partly because I know nothing about politics to even say that, and mostly because its uncomfortable, questionably hypocritical, and subject to suffer from the topic itself (speaking of politics, OBAMA, http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/pages/frontline/sickaroundamerica/view/ and why healthcare). Fortunately or unfortunately, circumlocution is fun and can even be accidentally inspirational. And there are maybe four readers, three of which probably aren't even following me, so "public" doesn't really, really apply, even though I don't have copyrights, probably.

The Public Domain, aka judgment, popularity, approval, confirmation, by Yours Truly, jk

Admittedly, I am not as eloquent as either of the Green brothers, by pen or mouth, so an introduction to fearing exposing ourselves: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fGmAekTPD5c

So first, my disclaimer? I judge people, some strongly, some more aloofly, some probably very wrongly. I never hate people and have bitter reservations only for one to three. In this day and age, there is enough freedom such that actions and words do reflect the heart, regardless of how hard it is to admit. We are not suppressed by unspeakable life-threatening government, binding religious rules, or cult-frat-sorority rituals. For this reason, everything said and done, purposeless or not, during times of pensiveness or thoughtlessness, is still, on some level, an indication of the thunder brewing within. Even the simplest minds have thunder, I would hope, anyway.

Its a relief to be alone in the crowd, furiously working, calculating, writing, without hindrance, 100% in sync with integrals, differentiation, rhetoric, circles. Its strangely exhilarating to observe the world through interaction, realizing, that as five old friends gather to analyze the suicide of Edna Pontellier, that others have deep, deep insight, even about befuddled feminists of the Realism age, and fiery issues at heart. Its wonderful to have teachers that live, authors that think, and my dear mother, who understands. These feelings are either part of my adolescent revelation phase, or the decreasing frequency with which I talk to people for real. So the latter.

Similarly, its a relief to be alone, away from the prying and giggling eyes of the public. Finally, in the literal sense as well, there is air. Oh how I love to be surrounded by nothing but the embrace of the forest, the sunset, the chill of the air... oh how I love to be momentarily unthinking, because everything is okay, like once a week, for one, precious hour.