Nighty eyes opened.

I Cannot seem to be able to sleep again. So here I sit and type letters hoping they make words that expand into sentences that will excite a thought somehow.

I wonder why wayward events make people famous and practice and hard work sometimes don't pay off. For instance how many people get cold feet and skip out on their marriages every day. Then that one day that woman does it and wins the national news lottery. She is famous all at once while some other poor Joan has been going to school, working hard, writes, creates etc. hoping to do something special to make the national news and ppphhhzzttt nada. Not saying that famous is good but it just happens to be not really planned.

What are the chances that one sperm and one egg in millions and billions of eggs and sperms ends up being someone like Paris Hilton. I don't think sperms and eggs have schools and do research and practice to get it right. I don't think that there are sperm and egg agents out there or producers doing casting calls for the proper egg and sperm matches.

Then again science may be making that happen more than I think. The roll of the dice so to speak is getting more and more predictable. Still that egg and sperm has to grow and become something, even if it is pre-bought, pre-programmed or pre-whatever.
So does that mean that the future will hold pre-lawyers and pre-actresses and pre-people? What will happen to the rest of sperm and egg hatchlings that just happen in paradise by the dashboard light so to speak? (Thank you Meatloaf).

Once born will there be a list? If you are not on that list then do you get the leftover jobs at McDonalds or in a factory or whatever?

Is the world just strange and getting more unpredictable or more predictable eveyday?

What got me thinking about this was this. I liked to smoke pot, maryjane, wacky weed, whatever when I was young. I was walking down the street in Boston, it was the late 70's, and I was nonchalantly smoking a joint, or reefer or whatever. Suddenly I became the center of attention for a bunch of tourists. They thought it was cool that here was a person in Boston, just walking down the street smoking a joint like it was a normal every day occurance. They got out of their car asked me to pose for some pictures and they took group pictures of me and them for friends and relatives so they could talk about who they saw in Boston, and what a cool town Boston was because you could walk down the street smoking a joint and nobody cared.

So there I was not trying to be famous, just myself enjoying a walk in Boston smoking my Mary J. Joint joyfully. I am sure there were people who lived in Boston that would have loved the attention and got their pictures taken, but no, these tourists wanted me. So who knows about fame.

Of course I was in my dress Coast Guard Uniform too, but not that that mattered either. It just happened. There I was being famous without trying. Such is life I guess.