...And now to pick back up on our blogumentary on the idea.

*Clears throat*

*Puts on announcer voice*

Ideas are strange. They have no definable form, nor any sort of stereotype for their content, except that they are usually born in a mind, or catch on in a mind due to some other idea. Ideas are often born of interpretations of physical things, or other ideas. An oddity of ideas is that they are infectious, unstoppably so. They spread through air, words, writing, ink, electricity, drawings, paper, stone, any sort of medium they can harness to their advantage. No matter what you do, once infected with an idea, you are a host to it. It will multiply and its offspring, as a precaution to their safety, will mutate into even just slightly varied-from-the-original mutations. Even if you only are exposed to part of an idea, you are a host. Regardless of whether you agree with the idea or not, it will root itself in your head and you will unknowingly infect millions of others through a variety of ways. If you make a stand against an idea, such as gun control, that idea will spread to other people, whether they support it or not as well, and ideas will often cause clashing and violence among their hosts, battling brutally for supremacy. Although civilization is built on levels of ideas, ideas have been responsible for unspeakable genocide and crimes, for censorship of their fellow ideas, for everything. However, they are hard to tell from good ideas, or ideas that depend on your point of view to be judged good or bad. Ideas will not die out as long as even just barely sentient creatures exist to hold them.

***

I really feel disconnected some times... I just have trouble with the rest of the sickeningly violent, barbaric, and stupid species we all refer to as humanity. We are possibly the only 'sentient' species in the universe or at least our galaxy, and how do we use out intelligence? We kill, slaughter, butcher, violate, ruin, reasonlessly murder, and bomb each other. I can't put up with the stress some times.

Cause I'm losing my sight,

Losing my mind,

Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine

Losing my sight ,

Losing my mind,

Wish somebody would tell me I'm fine

--"Last Resort", by Papa Roach.

That could be used to describe my mental issues sometimes. You know, those moments where you swear you can't take it and want to do something awful? I get those a lot, and I wonder how I keep myself under control.