Is my life out of focus at times?

So, I chose the picture, and then thought up the title, I knew before choosing the picture that this post was to be about the mind. Specifically my mind, which I know best.

There is a concept just forming in the theory complex of my brain about vibrating. I call it this because it is, in my opinion, an accurate description for what I do when I am close to a discovery.

It might even be attributable to excitement. Some might become exuberant and look excited, however, I just vibrate. This way i hide my excitement from other people so as not to alarm them. My discoveries are quite personal to me and quite often I do not wish to share them until I meet the right person with whom to share. I do not share willy nilly, and I most certainly do not share down the pub. Some of my ancestors inventions have become successful for others by sharing down the pub. I have found that pub culture is becoming less interesting and I have had too many unwanted adventures in those places.

So in vibrating others might appear out of focus in the Psychic atmosphere between me and them. So often this vibration implies to me that I am not entirely in the present. I am out of Sync with the present, and possibly out of time. When i write that i mean simply that I am thinking quite lucidly about a future event as if it is happening at the present moment. I have traveled.

This makes me less interested in the present and more interested in the future. Because the future is malleable the place is what you make of it. Well my future is fantastic. I suppose I have discovered a formulae for >hope< which I can tap into. This might sound implausible, however, in my work as a software developer, I actually make the future, or my future, happen. I suppose it is my future as I define computer code which tells the computer how to behave. And who does the computer tell how to behave?

I shall end on that question and write more another time. I am actually taking a break from some work and this was a nice way to spend this interlude.

David A. Robertson