About This … Thing

I think I am a little bit different from most people. I think I process my experiences and other events in the world differently from how most other people. At least, I hope this just makes me “different” and not something worse. I could be “horribly fucked up in the head.” Maybe in a few years or a few decades, I will walk into a psych professional’s office, be given a diagnosis and some accompanying treatment, and then, with a swallow of a pill or a few sessions of cognitive therapy, I will suddenly become what you all call normal. I will stop being so confused, so frustrated, so hateful and sardonic. But hopefully not.

Perhaps the most obvious quality of my fucked-uped-ness is that I, to put it in a certain way, think a lot. I find myself obsessing about most things in the world - speeches, jokes, songs, a personable wave from a casual acquaintance, television shows, the blinking of the cute girl in the elevator – and wondering about them. “Why?” is the ultimate question. It is, as Albert Camus alludes to, an impossible question. In spite of what I acknowledge to be an eternal emptiness of it all, I find myself ascribing meaning, a deep, vast and even terrifying meaning to it all.

And that is what this is. A way to release my neurosis. A place where I can share what I think, what I believe, with people who, hopefully, can understand some of it. Perhaps I can reconcile what makes me so…something with what everyone else has deemed to be “normal.”

I have deemed Stetson’s Garden to be a culture blog, because culture – the aspects of society that create society – is what the focus of writings will be. Ultimately, what I write will be what I feel. It will be what I believe. It will be personal and raw. It may be uncomfortable.

Thank you very much for reading.