Sometimes its strikes me as odd to think of the chaos that exists in the mind(s) of us all as we mentally scurry around the landscape of political correctness in an effort to ward off indictments by others for the in the commission of thought crimes. You can feel however you wish to feel, you can support anyone’s point of view, you can like any music you wish, you can love anyone you want, you can be supportive of any political party, just as long as you keep it well-hidden or dressed for others unquestioning consumption. If you choose to display any affinity for any particular thing, then it must be in direct support of the immediate environment and sustained by its present company. Unless, you are willing to run the risk of being labeled in a manner in which serves no further purpose other than to make those around you more comfortable. Occasionally, in this environment we have flashes of sanity, but we refuse to expose the discovery of ourselves in that perfect moment for fear of interpersonal conflict hedged by a political agenda or the need to appear open-minded. How dare you find your completeness in the midst of the daily chaos WE so affectionately claim as normal everyday life. It is in these moments of clarity that your true sense of self begins its dissension down the birth canal with the sole desire to simply always BE. There are those that live among us, that develop contingencies to suppress true individual expression and will stop at nothing to covertly or overtly (if necessary) usher you back into submission and force you to reflect the ways of the collective back upon them just as the sun displaces the darkness of the moon in the night sky. If you leave the fold or stand on your own, their fool heartiness will be rendered into darkness… and soon quiet obscurity. However, and unfortunately our sane and creative self is not likely to reveal itself so easily in the future… at least not with the same flair. Then… before you know it… you’ve fallen either a victim or volunteer, living as a resident in the prison for the wandering, the loss, and the subservient that was created for you by them… the constructionist… the politically correct… The sleeping.