Bovine Disambiguation

Well I am soooo over this broken reproductive system. My manbits are well on the way to full recovery now with visible signs of improvement. I won't go into detail, but they are starting to look like they used to again... Phew! Being house bound has been a little depressing though and frustrating at the same time because of the fact that I am still limited in my capacity to lift things and move stuff around. Moving in certain ways is a definate no-no. I'm starting to get self conscious now of talking about my own anatomy too much. Well geez I suppose that it's not a commonly talked about area. That's probably for a good reason too. Nobody wants to know too much about me, although we all seem to have an underlying curiosity don't we? An inner voyeur that seeks to explain our own unseen behaviours perhaps. Lets face it, we can't act out some of our fantasies for fear of ridicule or embarrassment. Some fantasies are well, not realistic, obtainable, obscene or just plain bizarre, but underneath it all we all have common basic needs as human beings.

I think in general, we all struggle with disambiguation... That is we think that someone has a lifestyle or attitude to life that we aspire to, when in fact they themselves may feel the same about another individual (who doesn't seem the least bit interesting to you!) I reckon that this is because people are not always what they seem. We all have hidden agendas, secrets or attitudes that we don't want to disclose. It may be a psychological defence mechanism that saves us from bearing our souls to those who might exploit us. So there I was: the ever present (yet variable in intensity) abdoninal pain constantly reminding me not to overdo it. Yet again, the bath tub was to be my closest ally. Comforted by it's deep white edges and soothing contents, I relaxed and rested my...well you know the rest.

So life can apparently be a hotch potch of ambiguity. Oh well, I guess that that is what makes us so interesting. There again, perhaps I am wrong... Perhaps life really is like the Matrix, perhaps we are living in a dream world. Perhaps. At the end of every day do we go to sleep only to wake up in an unreal world? Does it even really matter afterall? Could it be that I am actually talking about cows??? Perhaps wombats then. Animals live such uncomplicated lives... When we finally discover our true identities, will we realise that this is all a dream: and that other people's lifestyles are an altogether unrelated story on this page in the book that is your life?

We all write unique pages in our 'life books.' My book is different from yours, and yours in turn is different from theirs. Some books are long, while others are short. Some funny, some grim. But they are all unique and are all written with our own unique style and language. We are all beautiful novels bound in turn, by the chapters unfolding in the book of life and the history of mankind. The History of Mankind is the best novel to date, but is only a snippet in the Encyclopedia of our Universe. And on it goes.

If we could choose to live like cows for a day, apart from eating lots of grass what would we do? Probably only things that really matter, like looking for more grass I suppose. Moo!!!