Another Cup of Hormones, Please

I like to observe people because, although the average earthling does not realize it, they are nothing more that constitutional lab-rats. This, to further my end of self-righteous proof to myself that I am a superior being, because not only have I taken notice of this pax voice, I have done absolutely nothing about it except to observe…and point and laugh upon occasion.
I have not, in truth, observed very much that would be able to constitute an entire informative paper on the subject of human productivity or machinery, but I have observed enough to make me deem myself an enlightened soul. This has been partly due to the fact that I am very capable of expressing myself and my inane assumptions, as you are currently witness of, and so I have been able to appear as though I’ve formed quite a consensus on the matter, when, in fact, I have not.
This is very difficult to understand.
The observation of human beings is not something I would advise an average mortal to begin a ministry in. It is certainly not a widely understood practice, such as a minstrelsy or martyrdom, and I would not suggest to anyone to give up very much in pursuit of it, but it is a very tasteful work.
I was first turned onto this strange observation by something of an absurd happening that caught my keen and ever peering eye. As I was meandering along the street, when I used to be a very resolute man, strolling for no particular reason with the intent of what I was doing, I encountered a strange circumstance. If it hadn’t been observed by me, it might well have gone unnoticed, as such a thing portends to happen quite often. If I should tell you this, at first you will nod and not understand exactly what I mean to explain by explaining this. But if you are of any brains at all, eventually you will come to comprehend just a bit, I trust.
This woman, to whom I owe the propulsion of my life’s work, began by listening very lazily to another woman, who, for the better part of my standing there, had irritated me quite beyond belief. If it wasn’t for that I wasn’t so keenly interested in the woman’s overbearing arrogance, I would not have stayed to listen. It was, in fact, the cavaliering woman who pricked my first fancy, until the second woman spoke her piece.
In short, the first woman, with many motions of her thick-set hands and scuffling of her heavy feet that grew out of the ground like deep-rooted pillars, began to tell the other how to live her life. Although many people aren’t privy to this, almost any compulsive speech to another person about anything that is not the first subject’s general business, or in any way attached beyond the third party, is somewhat of a bossy speech telling another what to do, when it really is a mouse talking to an elephant. Fortunately for many of these supercilious beings, those on the receiving end of such beratement are rarely ever attuned to this secret either.
As this woman began and continued for minutes in a hurried flare of motion to describe the woman’s predicament and sort it out, as if it were the very thing that her friend had desired in venting her frustrations in the first place, I listened and grew very unsettled. It was, in this, that I began to pretend that I was waiting for my bus to arrive; or at least, I took on this sort of impatient posture, though I doubt that my stance was very deceiving, as there was no bus stop nearby.
And then, the second woman, having been lost miles into the woman’s conversation, began to swirl her eyes and shrug with what was an attempt at a high-class nonchalance, but really came off as somewhat of a shudder, replied, “You’re right. But I don’t care.”
That, and the corresponding shiver, gave me quite a shock. What a fright! To think that you and I are surrounded by people who don’t care?
This epiphany gave me quite a deal of unnervance. I felt like a driver maneuvering through busy streets…having just discovered the undeniable presence of drunk, reckless drivers. I hugged myself protectively.
With this beginning, I launched into my own private investigation. What makes people care? Should people care? What could you do if you cared anyway?
I haven’t reached any end to speak of, in my investigation. But when I do, you’ll know.If you are an unsuspecting pathologist who happened to read this…and you’ve reached this point and have no idea what I’m talking about, you’re with me here (on planet earth, in case you were wondering), and you’re totally cool. We’re cool. What I’ve just been rambling on about has actually made quite a great deal of sense, but no self/spirituality-enhancing sense. So don’t lose much sleep over it. It hit me like a bolt of lightning…and the sparks are just touching the ground now. So it’s wearing off, it’s wearing off.
--February 2, 2005