"If...then" hypotheses. Speculations.

"If you want something badly enough, then it will happen."

Is that true? But couldn't it also mean that one will not necessarily get that particular happening, that maybe it will just be the chance for that opportunity to happen. I am  making sort of a cosmic inquisition. In which case, it may work out better for me if I were Spanish circa, oh I don't know, 1470?

"If you want something badly enough, and you happen to be a Spanish Christian in 1470, then the possibility of happening will be presented in a situation."

But I'm not that religious. In that, I've never killed anyone, and moreover, I wouldn't do it based on a higher power. I guess faith directly applies. Having faith, I'm told, invests a little bit of a positive reputation among cosmic-worker-bees.

"If you want something bad enough, especially if you are involved in the Spanish Inquisition, and you have faith, then the situation in which your if-want comes true will take place."

So what about the "then"? Can I manipulate..no, I hate that word, can I pull strings with the then portion? I guess not really. That is the part up to the beehive, but the likelihood percentages...is it 50%? 30% Can I sway it to 75, maybe 60% by batting my eyes or constructing a pout? I am not saying all-out ruttish persuasion, but if I happened to blink my eyes graciously...Well, here's where I'm at..

"If you want something badly enough, may or may not be a Spanish Inquisitor, have faith, and wear mascara, then there is possibly a more than 50% chance that you will receive the opportunity to have your if-want coming true."

I should probably just ask.

applegize.

First of all, I had no intention of not writing since February.  In fact, I believe I have written 3 blogs since my last.  Good 'ol bloggy blogspot, though, seems to be ignoring me. Obscene. Watch, all the sudden they are going to show up, and I'll be redundant and look like a dunce. To conical hats! Whatever, here's a poem.

I wish I were a bricklayer,
bricking a perfect wall.
Or a paper-pusher in a visor.
Just not what I am at all.

My sentence structure's boring,
my fashion doesn't match.
I cannot get a suntan
and I cannot throw or catch.

I wish I were a deep sea diver,
restoring sunken boats.
But I cannot even swim in pools.
I cannot even float.

I wish I weren't so whimsical,
or looked into the stars.
Maybe I should be a scientist,
or learn to work with cars.

I cannot seem to self-improve.
I don't really get much better.
I won't ever be a "girl of dreams,"
Some guy will have to settle.

Settle for a dreamer.
An unmatched, tacky dreamer.
With cheap knowledge
and the desire to rhyme "femur" with "dreamer."

You're so, so pretty.
And I'm so, so plain.
And sadly on the inside,
I'm really quite insane.

So instead of writing a love poem,
which I'd really like to do,
I'm apologizing for my lacklusters,
and my mediocrities to you.