I sometimes feel I have no control over what I decide to write about. This is actually comforting to me. I have/continue to make so many poor decisions in my life, that I prefer to think that Bidnar and Poglip from Planet Wacko send me secret messages and guide my typing, rather than Little Debbie just making them up. I preface today's blog with this poorly worded statement because my topic today is. . . . .love.
This is probably the most unoriginal subject I could write about, other than the Presidential Election (Please, God, let it be over soon!). So, if this edition of Debala's Diatribes seems boring, trite and repetitive, don't blame me, I voted for Bidnar and Poglip.
First of all, the word "love" is grossly overused. Second of all, actual love is grossly underused. Perhaps this is because the concept of love is so simple it's complicated, or vice versa, depending on where you're standing. There are all kinds of love, of course. I love My Kids in a different way than I love The Kitties, in a different way than I love My Friends in a different way than I love Bacon.
All of the above loves have hurt me at some time in my life (bacon indigestion is a bitch), but I never stopped loving any of them. Because love trumps pain, like paper trumps rock. Love is not rocket surgery, it's just commitment and the strength to be hurt and forgive. Lather, rinse, repeat.
See? I told you none of these revelations were going to be original. And I have no idea why Bidnar and Poglip felt that I needed to spew out this information today, the birthday of Chester A. Arthur (we went out a couple times, but there just wasn't any chemistry). But who am I to doubt the thoughtwaves of two Wackoians? And, while I would like to think that these Alien Musings will bring lasting peace to the Middle East, I think it's more likely they won't, because I believe in Love, but not Miracles. (Ironically, I don't care for the song I Believe in Love, but I do like I Believe in Miracles. Go know.)
I really intended to write about the Father of Modern Accounting being gay, but I guess B & P felt otherwise. And, as we all know, To Thine Own Aliens Be True.
Peace Out, Loved Ones.