And she's right. Because I think I'm a pathetic, fat, homely, lethargic, dull, sick and sweaty loser sitting here being annoyed by a rich TV shrink's personal anecdotes about how everything in his life just falls into place thanks to the magic of having a positive attitude, and voila! Thought becomes reality!
At least, I think that's what he's saying. I can't hear him very well, because the neighbors next door are playing their stereo so loud I can't hear the television set that's six feet in front of me.
I'm trying to visualize the neighbors as being dead. Or at least, as quiet as the dead. But that part isn't working.
This leads me to believe that form comes before thought. I'm not god. I can't create with my thoughts. Thus, it was not my thinking that created the pathetic, fat, homely, lethargic, dull, sick and sweaty loser who's sitting here watching Wayne Dyer on a PBS pledge drive. Rather, the pathetic, fat, homely, lethargic, dull, sick and sweaty loser existed beforehand, and the thoughts followed.
I'll be switching the program off shortly, before Dr. Wayne introduces the inspirational individual who was tragically and horrifically burned over his entire body as a child. All that kind of crap does is convince me that there IS no higher power, the world is a crap shoot, and some people roll snake eyes and there's not one d2mned thing you can do about it.