As I was shoving a chocolate frosted peanut butter bar from Hickory Kist into my face and I saw this pretty girl walk by and kind of glare at me. I could not help but notice the conspicuously placed bling on her left hand and once again reminded that I was not married. I've been thinking about this for a couple of weeks now and once upon a time I concluded that some people are meant to be baby-makers and some are not. That sounds mean, but its the only thing that helps me cope with not being able to keep up with the Jones and have a family like everyone else in the community. I'm pretty sure that mortals can't comprehend how they are special to God...just like everyone else so we have to place ourselves. Let's face it, its just really really hard to be undefined. Our point on this earth is to experience definition. Our mortal bodies are literally a defined version of our incomprehensible intelligentical beings. Satan hates hell because he doesn't get to be defined in a mortal body. So the whole point of our mortal existence is to define ourselves only to strive to embrace our undefinabilty once again and to use our bodies for good and to procreate.
*gasp*
And that's all I thought on that day.
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