In this world there are many types of people. I'd say two types, but I think I know and you now that the world is not as cut and dry as that; everything has a middle path, a third option.
But sometimes life breaks down into two groups: society's haves and have-nots. Of course, this distinction varies from group to group, and in different degrees and levels. A-ha, our third option.
Basically, though, in societal standards, one does not eek out a positive standing. No; you are either accepted whole-heartedly with a complementary Merlot, or are kicked to the gutter to join the patternless refuse society sees you as. There really is no third option, unless, that is, you happen to be invisible.
Being invisible is nice. It's a state of non-existing, really. No one knows who you are, nor do they care. You are left to eat your Easy Mac in peace, as you sit placidly in front of the media god of television for your nightly offering of worship.
It's sad, but true. Television has become a fiction-and-gossip-based religion, totally fabricated by the greedy men who control the destinies of the shows they fund. People invite strangers into their homes every night at seven more so than the God they are supposed to believe created them.
Of course, I am not suggesting people leave the confines of their homes for the spacious atmosphere of a local church, synagogue, or other so-called house of worship. I am not advertising the life of the Amish. But please, unplug that TV. Read. Do something that requires lateral thinking.
When you watch television, you don't need to understand the jokes to think they're funny: the laugh track "tells" you when to laugh. Who's going to argue with a laughtrack?
Then again, maybe I haven't given television enough of a chance. So I'll give it another go the day my body develops a working time clock. No concept of time leads to the inability to remember program set-ups. And I always get screwed up when they change time slots.
Oh, well. I have reading to do. I have writing to work on. I have people to see, though few places to go. I have a desire to make something of myself that far surpasses the role of vacant couch-potato.
But a day may come when the insane reality of the TV as my father becomes my vision once more. I may watch reruns for episodes at a time: because babies aren't the only ones who learn by repetition.
We are all of us the products of an evolution of sorts, the change from newborn all the way to being an old person. Some exhibit certain patterned traits prior to their distinguished stage (i.e., the wisdom of a sixty year old in a twenty year old's body), while others hold onto patterns from past ages of development.
But despite this, people still choose to categorize and generalize in an attempt to hypnotize and capitalize on what common people fantasize, and life becomes more dramatized.
In a nutshell, labels are kooky. Lines get blurred, and we're running out of third options. And "c: none of the above" gets old after a while. As we come to see ourselves as more and more sentient (all the while