[I hereby declare this blog under mysterious attack, and in need of a State of Emergency. Angelfire, once again, hosts a virulent dissident who enjoys needless destruction of other people's uploads, and the ever-hungry Tagboard has, in a moment of sheer desperation, taken cannibalistic measures and is eating its own posts.]

Superstition
Whenever you want something to happen, you don't even think about thinking about it, but the opposite, which means being pessimistic, but the concept doesn't always work, because once you think something you can't pretend you didn't. Moral being, obsessing about anything is an absolute no-no.
The modern version of 'knock on wood' (don't knock on any doors, ease each one open and peer through the cracks). Cheese diet this weekend (diet being only one type of food, not any attempt to lose weight); cheese nuggets and Mozzerella Melt at KFC, (American kids like to make a lot of noise, even when they're doing something sedate like sitting), crowded lifts (guys who make armpit farts, on purpose? Shouldn't be allowed to keep on living). Diets are a kind of superstition; they make you feel safe. "I am trying my best, so even if nothing happens, I am guilt-free." So is exercise.
Movie reviewers, on the other hand, should not be taken so seriously, especially those who equate themselves worthy of reviewing the self-same soundtracks. The only thing disturbing about Elephant? The fact that it won several awards. (I'll whup you with a blunt object if I see ya back one more time, or your drunken, over-bored cameraman.) I liked the way Michelle stands still on the playing field, in sweat pants and hood, and kind of gapes at the skyline for a good ten minutes, with all the cheerleader arm-waving and footballs gracefully arching through air behind her, though.
But superstition suggests unexplained forages into being. "Close the microwave door!" "Why?" Pause. "I know I'm stupid because I can't explain it to you!" I only asked a simple, inquiring question.
Religion, hence, is not the same, am I saying. Am I? I am enjoying myself, almost, exploring the 'problem chapters' of the Bible with Philip Yancey, including Ecclesiastes, which of all things I was reminded of from Craig Thompson's graphic novel Blankets. Why?
Does believing have anything to do with confidence? There are hairline cracks in a belief, therefore one does not have confidence? I never liked teaching things to people, even in a comfortable Pizza Hut environment. I am no good at imparting advice; it sounds strange coming out of my mouth.
But I do believe in something, the essence of which slides over the surface of my skin and consciousness every time I am awake.
Swing swing.