It's About Nothing...

It's not really a secret. But I feel like if I talk about it, I'll jinx it. I know, I know, there is no cause/effect relationship here. If it turns into something, then you can bet your sweet bippy I'll talk about it. Probably ad continuum, ad nauseum. To the point where you'll wish for me to shut up already and move on to the next mildly interesting or amusing topic. So I'm going to keep this to myself for a while. Ponder perhaps to the point of obsession. Maybe do a HAL thing and wig out because I'm acting all normal, at least for me, on the outside whilst something entirely different is lurking on the inside and playing havoc with the neural streams in my positronic artificial brain. And, no, this is not about a man. Or the possibility of a man or the probability of a man. It's about me, my life, and I. And where do we go from here. The whole point is, some sort of movement is necessary. I have been nudged out of my former place of complacency into an area of the ethereal. When tenuous becomes tangible, we'll definitely talk.