The Desert Rose.
The Dessert Rose.
--these discrepancies can be maddening to the lowly robot making his way home, parsing through the memories of his day, trying in vain to sift the wheat of logic from the chaff of emotion and dissipation; how do you do it, anyway? Deciding the who and what of the important and the everyday, mundane things; why--the same one sat for the better part of an hour mentally considering the pattern of the 1970 wood paneling in the room.
How do people get to these places, and why not pull the "rescue lever"?
I tell you, we people, decide, for better or worse, what is best, and we generally know, or the people around us know, what we need to get through the day.
It is evident that I am a thinking being, and my lot is to harness the power of my own facility to the fated end.
The horse that barn past the fell.
The fell barn past the quick horse.
We know, and if we get too caught up in worry--aside from smart planning thoughts--caught up in worry, we are lost from enjoying just a simple moment. And as the meme said, people were made for "each other", people were made in part to interact in some form of human society.
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