A Contemplative Laugh in a Vast of Lost

This will be a short post to be sure, with much more to follow, as I'm sure there are those of you who already know about the way things stand, and that there will be more challenges in the days to come.
However, in a rare moment of contemplation, browsing, and observation compilation of things other than the larger matter at hand, I've come across a little something that brings the gift of a wry little smile, which is truly a blessing in such times. Since, at the particular time that this came to me, there was no one online appropriate to share this with, I've decided to turn it to the usual Plague audience and wait for the responses to roll in.
And without further ado, after the requisite wordy preamble, the thought:
the spectrum of personalities that my sweetheart Jerrod enjoys, covers a truly broad variety of people. So large is this expanse, that not only am I inclined to feel a general reaction best labeled "don't get any of that on me" when I think about these people, but it comes to the point where it is no longer a matter of dislike, but simply one of confusion. Whilst browsing through a selection of his various friends' journals in search of some sort of randomized distraction, I surfed through several journals which I must admit left me completely without a trace of understanding of the people who wrote them. So different are our personalities, that I just cannot even begin to comprehend how these people function, and how they value their experiences in life.
And I think, that this is cool. In all honesty, it's a phenomenon that I think at some point I would love to discuss and explore with him, as the basis upon which he chooses his friends, specifically, the ones of the female persuasion, has always been something of a point of curiosity for me.
Perhaps the one major trend that I have followed throughout this entire thought process is the "bouncy bimbo" thread. Now, given that it is really impossible to judge a person simply by what he or she deems worthy to write about in his or her livejournal or the prowess with which he or she writes, I nevertheless have found browsing the journals of "the bouncy folk" (close cousins of the lollipop-folk and illegitimate children of the mini-folk, aka midgets) a fascinating activity to engage in every once in a while.
The first thing I always wonder, really, is "just how deep does the rabbit hole go?" That is to say, "to what depths does this person actually experience the intensity of life?" Are their journals simply a cursory glance and summary of their trials and tribulations throughout the day, or are they really as shallow as their journals would belie? This is the kind of thing that has always baffled me, as one who experiences life a little more intensely than she would prefer to (this is to say, I live in fear of becoming the ever-dreaded drama-queen, and I sincerely hope that my good friends shoot me should this ever happen). As a good friend of mine once put it, "if you're not completely appalled, you're not paying attention," and I like to think that this most closely provides the best description of my distorted perspective on life. I live every day absolutely appalled, and probably a lot angrier than I should - and I'm sure lightening up and letting go of a little bit of seething hatred for certain people would truly improve the overall quality of my life. To put this all in perspective: despite the fact that there are clearly larger, more important matters at hand to attend to, I, by no means, neglected to plan to screw the female highest in rooming priority for the junior class because I think she is a complete and utter fucktard, when pontificating on the issue of my dorm room status in my absence (the fact that I still take comfort in the thought of urinating in her box of saltines still brings me great joy is also another sign that I should probably lighten up and let go of things).
But, of course, I digress. The point I have been attempting to emphasize has been that I wonder if there are people who simply experience life at a lighter intensity than others. When they are easily pleased, always bouncing, giggling, peppering their text with ASCII smiley faces, and repeatedly and often summing up their deepest troubles and joys with "I hate my job!" and "I love my boy!" I can't help but wonder if they ever sat down and actually thought about it. Then again, I suppose "people just not thinking before they act" has been another one of my lifelong beefs with modern humans, and perhaps I should just simply give up and not hold people to such high standards. Some people just might not really have great highs and lows in their lives, and thus, such monumental proclamations as "I fell right on my butt!" and "Alex and I have been going out since March and we are incredibly happy!" suffice as earth-moving experiences. That's of course, the other thing, I guess. Perhaps part of the frustration that results from considering that there are people out there whose shallow minds render their bodies useless sacks of assorted sausage meat waiting to happen stems from a jealousy or a desire to deeply and intensely feel the situations that they are lucky enough to only be peripherally be grasping. This is to say, I have often found myself wishing for the guts to say to those I care about, "what the fuck are you doing, shithead? You have so much potential to develop into the most amazing, full, emotionally-rich person out of anyone in your immediate surroundings that it makes me so jealous that I cry. And instead, you're choosing to drive the path of least resistance, finding meager amounts of satisfaction in yelling at people that your dumb idiot ball-and-chain tells you to because she doesn't have the balls to do it herself so she has to steal yours? Think a little for yourself! Find *real* happiness in life!" And yes, while the sentiment is almost always futile and the effort made in vain, the fact that I've never had the guts myself to tell any of my friends that I've watched being stepped all over to want better for themselves is a failing on my part. No doubt, that as of late, the desire for me to want everyone around me to live their life more fully has increased tenfold - I think that I'll always believe it when I say "there is no joy in waking up one morning and rolling over and forcing yourself to come to terms that the thing lying next to you makes noises like a strangled sheep, and you're stuck with it by obligation because you just can't get rid of it now."
So perhaps that's my resolution today - be prepared to think a lot, and live a little more than before, because you never really understand the fragility of human life until it really slips away. And you never want to be left wondering "shouldn't I have felt more?" or "wasn't I supposed to come off 'auto pilot for path' at some point ?" And with that, perhaps it is also important too to spread the words of advice to those I care about, knowing that I may not be able to affect any changes, but that I wouldn't ever look back and say I hadn't tried.
I'm not really sure how this topic of life intensity arose from the simple topic of "other people's journals," but perhaps it is through the intrinsic link of "other people" to their corresponding journals, and then through deeper thought, now that it has occurred to me that I am no longer smiling that half-grin I was earlier, but more staring intently at my screen with thought.
Returning to the original examination of "reading other people's blogs and wondering if I need to simplify my life, or if other people need to turn up the volume," I suppose that I should briefly note the second thing that I think about, and that is the specific topic of Jerrod. I have wondered for a long time what it is that he seems to like about me, given that the general qualities I possess seem to be a far cry from the rest of the women that he is very fond of. The browsing of his friends' journals has made me wonder all the more, as the female group is primarily composed of women that I would consider "bouncy," or at least semi-of-that-nature. I am well aware that I do not know these people well enough to understand them at all, and I apologize for anyone reading who may take offense (wow, a sincere apology in The Plague? Sacrelige!), but I postulate that I am very much lacking in the joyous effervescence department, and I have bags of anger to spare - neither of which seem to really earn me positive points in the "friends" category. I often wonder if this means that I should lighten up a lot and lay my grand appalled-ness to rest, in an attempt to make things easier on poor Jerrod, who has to deal with me so much. Yet I can't help but feel a sort of comfort and attachment to my curmudgeonly self, and the fact that I like living with the volume turned all the way up, and feeling every up and down like there's no tomorrow. Because, well, sometimes there isn't. And really, wouldn't it be shitty to suddenly come to a stop and realize that "all through the playlist of your life, your subwoofer was broken and you never fixed it, and now that your hard disk is gone, along with your music, you'll never get to enjoy the richness and subtle sound quality enhancements that a good rumbling bass provides while you're listening to a classical masterpiece - even if it did mean that once or twice in the lifetime of your playlist, you had to listen to the rattling grind of the Butt Pirate bass line?"
From here, I suppose I just wonder where I should go - volume up or volume down? Something in me screams "up up! always up!" and yet I wonder if it means losing my friends who prefer the volume down on life.

Further bulletins as events warrant.