Prose, poetry, fiction, and rambles from people with a bit too much time on their hands.

something about penguins (and something not about penguins)

Let’s start this off, shall we?

A penguin waddles across an icy iceberg in such tacitly tact way you’d think they were foolishly fooling you into thinking that it is way too cold to swim. It’s actually a few degrees below zero (Fahrenheit), so it isn’t too bad, there are fish aplenty within the deep blue yonder and yet all the penguin wants to do is stand, because, as we have mentioned before, it may be very cold. In fact, a few degrees below zero (Fahrenheit) is very cold. The penguin is faced with an option that is more human than penguin, really. Should it jump into the waters cooled by the icy iceberg, swim around for a little and find some sustenance for the rest of the day? Or should it stand still, stoically stowing away its remaining energy and keeping warm for a pretty indefinite period of time until another penguin waddles along with some surplus fish in its beak. The rift, it seems, is between the willingness to venture for more or settle for less. So the penguin stops, digs its little feet into the building snow (did I not mention it was snowing?) and uses all of the power in its frontal lobe (if penguins have one at all, I’m as of late ignorant in the ways of penguin anatomy) and tries to decide what the best course of action would be. What would the best course of action be? (Furthermore, why is this penguin adopting such human traits? Is it an evolved penguin, brought about after many genetic mutations over generations? Is it merely a terrible metaphor?) The desire for more fish or realizing that it is perfectly content with just sitting for a little while?

I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore (I rarely do, but this is beyond my normal realm of comprehension), so let’s change the subject. I haven’t been writing a lot recently, mainly because way too many unimportant things (and many important things, for that matter) have been clogging up the ol’ cerebral cortex recently. This isn’t saying that I haven’t had the desire to write, no, no, that remains the same. This is saying that all of those great ideas, all of those strong notions that suddenly crop up in the mind have gone by the wayside for other things. I don’t like that much (if at all).

Many, many apologies. I need to straighten things out within the whole mind thing.

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