Sunday, July 06, 2008

As it turns out, I can't count. When I logged on, it said I had 249 posts, but when I count them by myself, I only have 248, making this one 249th, and the next one 250th. What's up with that?

Does it mean I still have a real chance to make a meaningful 250th post?

Make suggestion for the Super Awesome 250th Post Extravaganza!!!


Yes, three "!"s. That's just how awesome it is (for those who don't follow, it is super... as in Super Awesome... and it's an extravaganza...).

250th post

This is my 250th post. What a proud moment!

Blah.







Did you really think I'd waste such an occasion? Really? Well, I am.


By the way, I'm still alive and breathing, and using clich├ęs to describe how I am, even though it barely scratches the surface and really means nothing. I also assume people assume I live and breathe if I also type and click.

Click.

Thursday, June 19, 2008

Angry Angry Hippo

I've realized with time that I used to be expressionless. But not anymore. Now, I do express feelings and emotions. Mostly anger.

I keep getting angry at trivial things, like rain or inanimate objects. I kick tires with a footful of rage (tires, because it's bouncy, and while I'm angry, I'm not stupid enough to actually injure myself on top of it. I don't need that to be hurt anyway). I yell at people. I even yell insults at my boss. Well... I've done that for years, so it's nothing new. But this angry side is starting to worry me. Bad for the blood pressure.

I'm back where I was a teenager. Looking to pick a fight. How did I manage to get rid of it for nearly ten years? I can't remember. Was it just numbness and disinterest? Yes, apathy. How can apathy be the cause and the solution to all of my problem?

Not there yet

I keep hoping I'll hit the bottom, but my free fall appears endless. How much more depressed can I be? I can't buy myself a new pen whenever I feel bad. I can't jump on a plane every time I feel blue. I don't know.

Yes, I do like purchasing pens. Girls get a new haircut to feel better about themselves. I buy myself a pen. My current pen is really hard to beat, though. Greatest pen ever.

Back on topic... I had this theory that once I get to that point where I'm sincerely disgusted of being who I am, I'd have no choice but change into something else, hopefully better. But I've never hated myself enough, and I keep waiting for the worse to come. Or for the best to come.

Listen, people. I could do really great things if only I had the desire. I need desire, but I desire nothing, except that which I can't have, or doesn't exist.

Help me.

Monday, June 16, 2008

It came to me that it isn't a muse that I may need. I don't really need inspiration. I need motivation. But still, a muse could come in handy, if I were to struggle with ideas. So, I'll keep looking for a muse still. Perhaps I could manage to fall in love with my muse, and thus find some motivation.

Here's a reason why a muse should work for me: I'm awesome!

Saturday, June 14, 2008

Muse wanted

I need a muse. I need that person in my life that will come every now and then and stir things up and shake me out of whatever type of apathy it is that paralyzes me on a daily basis. I need a mental challenge, or someone interested enough to make me talk about these things that I know and want to write about. Right now, I'm just letting it brew inside, but to no avail. I have to spill it and share it, and make it into something else altogether.

But no muse, no spilling, no evolving into something else. I know I have all I need in me, but I just need someone to pull it out. Otherwise, I won't do it.


MUSE WANTED!


The salary's not great, but the benefits are... me!

Monday, May 26, 2008

Quote of the day

We don't see things as they are, we see things as we are.
- Anais Nin


I have to remember this one. This is good stuff, and true too.

Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Let's just write something

Hey! It's 2008! Well, it's just a big blur. Actually, more like a blizzard, a snow storm, a long cold night.

On one hand, I'm true to myself and to my principles. On the other hand, I'm still far from being the man I want to be. I admire certain traits in me, yet I despise others. I hate my laziness. I hate my inflexibility. I do love how I can come off as wise and understanding. I love my patience. I love my ability to dream and imagine, and this ability to link ideas together. I love how I can make sense out of disorder. Then, I hate to watch myself let disorders grow around me.

I started this blog so that I'd be encouraged to write more. I hoped some feedback would fuel my desire, and the effort of mere writing would wake my literary instinct up. Unfortunately, while many ideas have come up over the year and a half I've done this, I have yet to find the catalyst, the focus, the drive or the voice. I'm like a catatonic with things to say, but no mean to express myself. A live mind trapped in a dead body.

Let there be change!
If only I believed myself when I say such things...

...blah!