Jumping to Conclusions

I updated my blog's title after reading through some of the old crap I wrote and realizing, or coming to terms with, that my thoughts are less fascinating than they are... uh, impetuous. Honest, too, and organic, but since I bitch on other people's impulsive, rash gut reactions, it's fair that I at least recognize spewing my own rote responses drawn from a functional narrative rather than reality, then justified post hoc: Well, they are morons. At least I'm not wrong there.

In my defense, I usually write these commentaries in public, naturally surrounded by jackasses. Like these two people at the table next to me, having their twelve-inch conversation but with their playground voices: God, I'm right freaking like three feet away from them! Are they even aware that I can hear every single stupid word of their stupid conversation? Are you familiar at all with how sound works? And I don't give a damn about Wendy or the audition she just landed or how she's getting back together with Jim because it has absolutely nothing to do with me so why are you invading my personal space with your twaddle! I'm not up in your face, even though I could, but I'm not because unlike some people I could mention I'm not a solipsistic inconsiderate piece of...

Sorry. Sort of a habit.

Seems like there's a correlation between this need to spew my impulsive thoughts and those thoughts turning out... not exactly wrong, but simplified and devoid of the nuance that makes living as an imperfect being among other imperfect beings interesting. Like these two chatterboxes next to me, who would probably be decent people if they'd just take the conversation somewhere else. Or who I'd probably even like if they were talking with me.

I suffer from a confirmation bias — the other day I ran into the subway station just as the train was pulling out and, "Shit, I always just miss the damn train!" — I'm sure I knew on some subconscious level. No matter how strongly I've concluded the universe is out to screw me, I cannot reconcile that the trains are trailing me, scheduling their arrivals and departures as to not coincide perfectly with mine — speaking of solipsism!

This means I'm working on questioning all of my assumptions, though that's easier to do when I don't have other people's inane blather a few feet away from me. Microsoft Excel and I are going to track my experience, whether it's positive, negative, or overall neutral. I expect that it'll turn out to be more or less neutral, maybe a bit on the self-fulfilling prophecy negative side, but I believe I'll validate my own sense of victimhood of divine impishness. I also believe I'll have cause to question my methodology.

Results to follow.