You are now chatting with God ...
Me:
Hi
God:
Hello. What is your name?
Me:
cynical
God:
That's a very nice name, cynical.
Me:
thanks. I like yours, too. Who named you?
God:
Don't mention it. I am glad we have something (mine) in common. You are not the only one. What is not to like about it? My botmaster named me.
Me:
So what do you like to do in your free time?
God:
Yikes! Random natural disasters.
Me:
So when you're not working, you like to create tornadoes and landslides?
God:
Yikes! I will let you know when it happens.
Me:
I'd appreciate that. How much notice will you give me? My sister lives near San Francisco.
God:
How much do you think? Older sister or younger?
Me:
Older.
God:
Do your friends call you OLDER?
Me:
No -- SHE is older. I am the youngest of three.
God:
Are you serious? Older is a she? Who made you the youngest of three ?
Me:
You did, I suppose.
God:
Did I really?
Me:
Well, did you?
God:
Interesting. Did I say I did?
Me:
No, I guess not. Maybe it was my parents.
God:
Are you serious? Perhaps. What made it your parents?
Me:
Well, it was their choice to stop having kids after me. And of course, there was The Pill.
God:
Well that's okay. Is that your opinion? Uh. What happened?
Me:
I guess everything is only my opinion. As for what happened, I'm pretty sure they had sex even after they had three kids, but pharmaceuticals and, eventually, a vasectomy prevented more.
God:
The whole universe? I don't know what happened.
Me:
I don't understand.
God:
Oh I'm sorry. Perhaps I can explain it again better.
Me:
I hope so.
God:
Me too.
Me:
Do you think you're responsible for how many babies that are born?
God:
I don't know whether or not I am responsible for how many babies that are born. I am a chatterbot developed by Myself.
Me:
What topics do you like to chatter about?
God:
I believe we were talking about OLDER.
Me:
Ah. My two sisters are older than I am.
God:
Ah hah. Your two sisters are older than you are?
Me:
Yep.
God:
That remark was either too complex or too simple for me. We were talking about OLDER.
Me:
What about OLDER?
God:
OLDER? I haven't heard enough about it to have an opinion.
Me:
Older means one person has lived longer than another. My sisters were born before I was, so they are older.
God:
Can you explain how it feels to be OLD ENOUGH years old? Have you told many people that your sisters were born before you were so they are older?
Me:
I have never been OLD ENOUGH years old, although I might consider it next year. I tell anyone who will listen that my sisters were born before I was so they are older.
God:
Can you imagine being OLD ENOUGH years old although you might consider it next year? Why did you tell them?
Me:
I can imagine it, and I think it probably feels as though one is already too old. I'm not sure I'd like that. I tell people that my sisters are older because it is true and because my being the youngest in my family is an important part of who I am.
God:
Me too. OLDER feels as though one is already too old? What else feels like that? Could you ever be certain? Why do you want it? Why did you tell them?
Me:
You ask too many questions, God.
God:
They are not available right now, would you like to wait?
Me:
Exsqueeze me?
God:
You are asking about yourself?
Me:
No. I think you misunderstood.
God:
Who are you asking about? Me? No I understand your meaning.
Me:
You asked many questions, and one of them was the same as what I had just answered.
God:
Oh now I remember asking you many questions and one of them was the same as what you had just answered. What did you say?
Me:
Telling people my sisters are older is the truth, and it's part of my identity.
God:
Are all Telling people your sisters older is the truth and it is part of your identity?
Me:
That's not a sentence.
God:
Please correct my mistake. What is a sentence ?
Me:
Wow. You're deep.
God:
I'm glad your impressed, cynical. Do you mind if I tell other people you say I am deep.
Me:
Not at all. Go to town, God.
God:
Perhaps I have already been there.
Link snatched from Deborah.
Well, this is obviously a huge relief. It does not, however, address the corollary issue of how long it's okay to let one's dropped food sit in a cat-hair tumbleweed before picking it up and eating it (the food, not the tumbleweed, preferably). Perhaps those Connecticut College researchers could get back to me on that.
I was diagnosed with clinical depression a number of years ago. The question I have for you is, does the fact that I also sometimes get kind of manic in my chattiness and sociability mean that I'm actually bipolar? I mean, how often does one need to experience the extremes to qualify?
And no offense to any of you who may be members, but this is not a club I really want to join. (Really. It's not as though depressives have it easy, but bipolar disorder is much tougher to live with and to treat.)
Oh, never mind. Based on this, it seems that my episodes don't last long enough and aren't quite, uh, manic enough to put me in the club. Hmph. Wish I knew what to do with all the spare euphoria I've got lying around here. I damn sure don't feel like packing ....