third millennium ennui

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I was, some twenty years back, a damn ace at crossword puzzles. I always loved them. I remember being inspired by the first one I ever noticed. It was in a children's magazine at the doctor's office. I soaked that action right the heck up. It got so I would go on recycling bin raids to find crosswords to complete. I once completed a puzzle called something like the Cosmically Hardest Crossword in History in a book of supposedly hard crossword puzzles over the space of smoking one cigarette on my friend's patio.

He'd gone out after this book of tres difficile crosswords expressly to test my claims of expertise. To use his lingo, I blew his socks off. The deal is, I liked doing them so much because they made my brain work in that across and down kind of grid pattern.

I love playing Klondike for the same reason... and mahjongg solitaire....

I love concentrating on problems because I can feel my brain starting to move in their pattern. I solve problems by synching brain movement patterns with them. I can feel it in my coconut. I like it.

But, then, so, this would tend to indicate that letting something like a TV set or a computer put problems to me could be problematic... and not in good way.... This is why I try to stay away from popular sites as much as possible... and ones that just regurgitate what's on the popular sites.

I do go regularly to the Daily Mail site because they have so many pieces on art and nature and archeology and animals. I notice, though, that this is bad dangerous action because of all the bits aimed at making, say, Russia and China, seem like enemies, the billions of bits on seriously horrifying murders and accidental deaths, and, of course, the relentless celebrity crap. I ended up becoming fixated, despite myself, on the question of whether Halle Berry got her daughter away to France from the girl's father.

Yesterday, thank heavens, the matter was decided. The judge ruled she couldn't move the daughter across the world from her father. Being, I guess, the daughter of a father, I couldn't help but be dragged into it. I'm much relieved.

I can go back to trying to keep that sidebar outta my peripheral vision, and swiftly scrolling past the brain entrainment bits in the main body of the page. That stuff is dread brain poison and if any of it snags me again I will have to abandon that source for goodies.

Even things that only enter the mind incidentally contribute to the general patterning in there. If you let yourself in for it, the sneakily-worded headlines add up to Zombie, to only the ability to deal with reality like a zombie would. Even if you could never bring yourself to believe they're doing it to you on purpose, or never bring yourself to believe you aren't so analytically-minded you are impervious to it, no matter what, that stuff gets in and starts subverting the mind.

It's up to each of us to fill our minds with enough beautiful and positive stuff to help strengthen ourselves against the crap being strobed into us by psychopaths who mean us harm.