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How To Defile Holy Books

Never get too high or too low, that's what I always say.
It's not easy sometimes. Life has a way of sucker punching a person, whether with extreme joy or anguish, so that maintaining an even keel becomes the more difficult thereby. Still, there is much merit in staying even-tempered.
I remember talking with the CEO of my old company about the vagaries of Dutch accounting principles. What I remembered most was that it was acceptable, even encouraged, to offset gross profits against expected future losses, or to offset losses against expected future gains. In other words, and perhaps none too inaccurately, this seemed like license to embezzle huge sums of money. On the other hand, it was a practical (if disturbing) application of what I just wrote above, which is that it is desirable to maintain an even perspective in times of great joy or sadness.
Economy mirrors life sometimes. Life often mirrors one's economic state. Don't I know that only too well. But a west wind has shaken the boughs, scattering my cares upon the ground like so many dead leaves. I still have to rake them up and dispose of them, though. That must never be forgotten.
The recent rash of incidents involving the desecration of the Koran pique my curiosity. Much like the Post Office shooting sprees of the early 1990s, it seems that either a great number of people have had the same idea, good or ill, at the same time, or there was one trailblazer and a rash of imitators. I've never defiled a holy book myself, although with my lack of religious sentiment that may seem surprising. Respect for the traditions of all creeds stops me from randomly urinating on the Bible, or the Koran, or the Torah, or the Rig Veda, or the Analects of Kung-Fu-Tzu, or any other holy book or books one could name.
It seems oddly barbaric that one can catch the death penalty for desecrating the Koran in Pakistan. Then again, I'm a faithless scoundrel of my own old school, so my opinion can and should be discounted whenever appropriate, or not so.
America, though a bastard child of Judeo-Christian morality and soulless consumerism, still has a higher percentage of citizens espousing strong religious belief than many other western nations. I have nothing but respect for the beliefs of others, religious or otherwise, and encourage everyone to believe as they will, so long as their interests don't conflict with my own. As long as the net output lacks somewhat of general harm, it's all good to me.
Yet oddly enough, I find myself most disenchanted with my current workplace. Sure, the net upshot has been extremely positive, in that I'm doing much less of self-destruction and I've found a truly wonderful person (hi!). Sure, the circumstances involved in meeting this person so far away from anywhere I have any reason to visit make a person wonder about the existence of a supernatural influence on one's life, but I've seen enough stranger coincidences to explain it away in my own faithless and accursed mind. Any putative God has more important things to worry about than bringing this one person surfeits of joy or sorrow, even if it is amusing to think that an all-powerful being has it in for me, or at least is having fun in crafting my sufferings and joys. Indeed, if life is but a dream, I hope the dreamer is enjoying himself. Or herself. Or itself. Whatever. When in doubt, roll with it and enjoy the ride. As the Mick said, if I knew I'd live this long, I would have taken better care of myself.
I'm trying, I'm trying.
Morale boosting aside, the hot weather is returning, bringing with it mosquitoes and sweat. I like hot weather, and cold too, all for the wrong reasons. Perhaps there's a streak, or a wide road, of masochism in me that delights in the minor sufferings caused by the impassive environment around me, whether it be from sunburn or frostbite. The world is here and it is now and we have to light the candle for ourselves. It's amazing what one can see with just a little bit of light.
Disjointed.
I'm all over the place right now, wavering between giddiness and mania and sullen discomfiture with all the subtlety of a derailed freight train. It's fun even when it's not fun. It's easy to get caught up in the roller coaster rise and fall of emotion, but on the whole the world is still there and still must be dealt with in its fashion, so the day-to-day needs of existence provide stability to what could easily be chaos. I like chaos, and I like how I feel right now. It's just a bit overwhelming, that's all. As with all change, there is discomfort, but it's a happy discomfort that feels more like a warm hug on a chill night then a brick wall across a highway when you crash into it.
No, I insist that I'm not insane. Whatever that means, anyway. In an insane world it's easy sometimes to be a little off-kilter. But really, I'm fine. Happy for once. Very happy. Almost too happy to control. It's good to finally feel again after so long, so long, that I began to despair in a humdrum way of ever feeling again, good or ill. The fact that I've come to joy through grief seems appropriate. I wouldn't have it any other way, although it's sure that grief will come too, and more joy, and grief, and joy, and the net balance, much like the net available energy in the universe, is a zero-sum endeavor, which in and of itself is fascinating.