Schools of Thought

I realized as I was putting up an away message just now that I forgot about something someone said to me recently about my messages. I've covered the "depressing" ground just a few posts ago, and whats funny is that this other individual brought it up to me that, to him, A) my messages are either hilarious rants, or B) sappy lovey dovey creations.

Funny, no? The dichotomy between the two 'schools' is strange enough. Beyond that though, its that I cannot remember one thing I've put up that was about love, and if there was anything broaching the subject it was certainly in a strictly observational fashion-or sweet talking, because I was happy with the world, manner.
Regardless, it was definatly not in a sappy "I see rainbows in your eyes and I've got butterflies in my heart" kind of way. And thats for sure. I'm not in love, I don't pretend to be in love, I'm not wistfully wishing for love. So it makes me wonder where in the world he got this.

Then it dawns on me. He's reading into the messages just like everyone does. They read them off their screen, each with their own little cheese-cloth filter into their minds of particularized circumstances, and though its English, its read with so many different dialects that without spelling it out-as I do in most of my rants-the words and feeling behind them are wide open to interpretation. And as frusterating as it can be, its really quite wonderful and exciting. Here I explain until the words run out, and other times I'm so purposely vauge that the gaps beg your imagination to take over.

Because maybe, just maybe, the company there will have something to review for the application.

That, every little once in a while, your imagination wanders from point A to B using my words as skipping stones is more significant than you could possibly fathom. Even when traveling along.