2000
March 25, 2000
August 6, 2000
Undated
2001
2003
February 10, 2003
February 10, 2003 (Part 2)
February 11, 2003
February 13, 2003
February 14, 2003
February 19, 2003
February 20, 2003
February 23, 2003
February 25, 2003
March 7, 2003
March 9, 2003
March 10, 2003
February 10, 2003 - Within Reason
Ok, so I guess I'd begin 'whatever the future holds' by keeping a rough account of what I think. Anyway, maybe someday I'll become someone worthwhile enough that my previous life will interest somebody.
I suppose I've always been someone vacant of the confidence necessary to dive into something head first, so stories will not suffice for creative outlet. I think everyone starts out (everyone being the now & famous dead writers of present and past) with some sort of journal. I'll try my hand at this kind of writing.
Sorry to whomever might read this by teh way, I suffer from a self-diagnosed inability to stay on a single topic for much time.
The first topic I guess I've been thinking about is pens. This may initially seem silly but pencils are a great way for one to conceal themself (hence: pencil). But my point in this is that the pen is the ultimate tool for the wanna-be Salinger that everyone seems to suffer from at some point (?). The pen cannot be ereased, thus true emotions are jettisoned onto paper without the possibility of the human nature of masking the truth. Computers and pencils are subpar instruments of dictating will and energy, just as recorded music is a far cry from live music.
Editing is an unnatural process; humans are not polished creatures, thus their expressions should reflect a similar quality. Life is raw, unstoppable, not rehearsed and synthesized for everyone's enjoyment.
I guess me writing finally is the result of unhappiness. Not that unhappiness is a bad thing, but it provides one much creative liscense without the fear of popular reprocussion. I'm not quite sure what my perennial unhappiness stems from but Robby had a point when he told me I'm a worthless romantic. Romanticism is cute for guys who fight for Greek independence, but it's real world applicability is non-existent. I want this world to be perfect, I want the perfect girl, I want the perfect existence. I'm just a hopeless nobody from the suburbs floundering in a real world he refuses to see.
(It's easy to be self critical, isn't it?)
I think some may mistake me being self-critical for self-hatred. But realizing my many flaws makes me feel human, and in an odd sense, normal and weird at the same time. I don't hate myself, but I realize I share the same flaws that many others do.
I also have about 1000 interests spurting out of me at the same time. Intellectual subjects, the perfect girl, the theater (pretending to know something about it at least), and other various elements of society are all bubbling in my brain. But I'm also wallowing in the myre of disgusting inaction and lack of motivation. I hope I can fix this, but reasons to see the next day are hard to come by, especially when you're surrounded by phonies.
I suppose it's a must to include some pathetic personal interlude about a love interest or whatever else may captivate the Oprah Whinfrey audiences of this world.
Right now I am on the heels of quickly falling in and out of love or whatever the feeling pounding simultaneously in all my vital organs may be called. Anyway, she's a girl (yes, on purpose) equally confused and naive as me, but much more physically attractive. She's fairly stupid in a very intelligent manner but still manager to pull on me -- despite the obvious shortfalls. I think this is because we share relatively similar patrician upbrings that many are not privilege to. Hence, she took art lessons for much of her life.
I guess that's not much of a big deal, but it really struck a cord with me. I could see my mom getting a large metaphorical woodie for such a person who may also be able to feign genuine feelings for her son. Anyway, she can discuss art very well and share in some food starved caffeine driven conversations. She suffers from rather mundande music taste (independent music that fails to be truly independent). She also seems to be one of those people who enjoys denying themselves any sort of basic pleasure or satisfaction (no meat, no drinking, no drugs, and probably no sex).
I was temporarily crushed tonight when the gossip train wormed ot me that she has only friend interest in me. Maybe it is partially my fault for engaging in such worthless behavior, because it may not be true. Then again, I have never understood onet hing about girls except they are all dangerously mentally unstable. Immediately following the delivery of this information, I found myself pretty dejected but not surprised. I don't know why I kill myself over such trivial matters but I think I need to stop, soon.
The overall result will probably be me ignoring her for hte next few weeks, and her dropping me monthly boring IM's of "hey whats up how are you" etc. to keep the facade of being friends, whatever. I guess I give up fairly easy in matters of this sort but that's just me. I think that is why I never win at anything (maybe someday sloth will be a virtue in the good book?)
Anyway, I've managed to tire and depress the shit out of myself at the same time, opening up the pandoras box. Hopefully I will find the time but more importantly, the will to do this again. But maybe I'm a lost cause...