I was reading the posts of one of the resident (paid) bloggers on the Age site this morning and I came to a realisation. He is writing about the stuff I am writing about. Bastard!
Now I know the problem with the internet. And it is getting worse all the time now that social networks are the popular choice for people in getting those words out that are caught in their heads.
But it is even worse out here in the organic world. We talk and talk and talk. No-one listens but everyone talks. They want to let it out but not take it in. Why? I know why. Deep inside we want to feel pertinent. We want to amount to something. we want to be valid in an irrelevant society. Simply put; we don't want to be a nobody.
So where does this leave your not-so- humble overthinking man? In a word---- unread. I don't rate amongst the storm of opinions. And this is a good thing. It let's me know that I am not so great as I think I am in my head. I am not important, in the least bit, in real terms. I, like everyone else, am defined only by my loved ones. Those close to me who do actually listen to my words and whose words I actually listen to in return. I can write all the greatest observations in the world here on the overthinking blog-- but very few will read it past the first few sentences. It's not important enough- they have bigger matters to surf onto. And the lesson is: To live a satisfying and worthwhile life we must keep our mind close to home.
There nothing funny in that. I'm getting bloody preachy again---it's a really bad habit. But it's me and some people actually preach for a living don't they so I'm allowed to be amateur. Aren't I?