Early Retirement for Injured Federal Employees
The quote is often attributed (wrongly) to Shakespeare, when it was Sir Walter Scott in his lengthy poem, Marmion, which conceived it: “Oh what a tangled web we weave, When first we practice to deceive.” It is the internal web caught within the circular insularity of one’s thought-processes which allows […]
Whose voice is debating within the insular corridors of the otherwise silent individual? Which one is the dominant voice, and how does one determine if that particular voice should be the one which attains such a prominent status and stature within the cauldron of one’s own thoughts? […]
Once, it was not a valid question; or, at least not one in which most people were concerned about, unless you were born “out of wedlock” or an orphan shuttered in some institutional hideaway relegated to be humble and taught to forever be thankful for even being alive. Upon a time now gone, the name by which we were called, the reference to the parental lineage — “Oh, that’s Tom’s youngest” or “She’s Minerva’s middle-‘un” — was enough of an identifier, […]
Why is it that the common denominator is always represented by the basest of related factors? The answer is simple, of course, and a tautology of sorts; for, that which is uncommon, by definition, constitutes a rare and prized feature, and through sheer economic application of supply and demand, the latter is heightened when the former is scarce. Thus, in issues of character and human essences, the core of an individual is represented by the base elements of evolutionary Darwinism, and would therefore constitute the most simplistic of instinctive drives; whereas culture, refinement and societal structures are developed beyond the commonality of base factors. […]
“Language is a labyrinth of paths. You approach from one side and know your way around; you approach the same place from another side and no longer know your way about.” #203, Philosophical Investigations, Ludwig Wittgenstein. Life is never a static construct; those who consider it so, are sorely left behind when the winds of change suddenly fill the sails and the slumbering ship awakens with a groan to pull free of its moorings. Left behind are the days when a person could count on the vocation of the parent, or of a career singular throughout. […]
Perhaps it is reading quietly by a crackling fireside; or playing fetch with the dog; or that moment of peaceful quietude just before sleep overwhelms; those moments, where worries of the world and daily living expenses intrude not, and time remains frozen just long enough to allow for an interlude of soundless music. There have always been pleasures in life; we often overlook them, take them for granted, or merely avoid recognition, lest an identification of it as such would mark them for extinguishment by those imaginary goblins of demonic demolition set out to destroy all remaining vestiges and residues of joy and comfort. […]