Hemingway said to simply write one true thing. I'm going to see if that works for me. Most everything I express is reactionary. I hardly come up with any of my own completely proactive ideas. It seems as if I dislike myself. To the point that I am afraid to expose myself to anyone. One of my friends was joking around with me a month or so ago. He told me that I was incapable of original thought, and that I borrow to some degree, everything I say and do. I guess I should explain that we are mean to each other as a source of entertainment. It's harmless.
That really made me think. He is right. I take inspiration from everything else but myself. I'm pathological about avoiding a confrontation with myself. I need to stop refusing to address some of these things. It's time to stop being motivated by what other people think of me, too. Being concerned with what other people think of me is a crippling problem that I can side-step, in theory. It's stupid to live precariously through other people.
I did well on my unannounced quiz from microeconomics. I got the highest score in the class, too (43/50). But that doesn't mean I was the only one that got that score. That's not known by me. To give you an idea what this class is like, the scores ranged from 7-43 and the mean was 29.4 with 35 people in the class. I think some people seriously underestimated their degree choices. Some of these people are not cut out for economics. 7 out of 50? What, would it kill you to at least read the book? lol.
That was a tangential, digressionary field trip. Sometimes I make up words. Like my name, disynthetic. It's fun.
When I was fretting about the meaning and value of my existence, it occurred to me that my past drinking habits seem to be a form of self-harming. A slow form of killing myself. That's really dumb. There's something about me that I really don't like, if that's what is true.
So here's one true thing:
I don't know how to whistle, snap my fingers, or change the oil in my car. But I can sing... and I can think of unnecessary comebacks at inappropriate times in the middle of arguments that make the other person so mad that they hate me and forget what they were going to say. I don't think this is a strength, by the way. Hehe.
More true stuff:
I can cook a wide array of culinary delights in a dizzying assortment of methods.
I'm working on a B.S. in Economics because my instructor for Principles of Microeconomics made a good impression on me during my A.A. in Business Administration degree. Yet I'm not certain if I love it. I just like it. I don't know what I "love" as a career. But I know that my passion for cooking has become limited to the home and for friends and family.
I have a very difficult time talking to girls before I get to know them. I don't know why. My mind blanks. It feels unnatural. It's hard to explain. And this makes no sense because I'm told often that I'm charismatic. I know that many independent sources couldn't be wrong, but I don't believe it.
Sometimes when I'm hungover, I get unusually emotional during television shows and movies. Like, haha, not like crying because I haven't done that since my grandfather blew his head off on my birthday last summer. More like the kind of emotional where you feel sympathy for everything and everyone like you're on ecstasy or something. Which I haven't and won't ever try, I've just heard that about it. It doesn't go so far as if someone eats a cookie that I actually feel sad about the cookie dying. Nothing like that.
Another true thing: I have a MUCH harder time reading the emotions of people I'm closer to than that of people I know next to nothing about. I'm a cancer. We're very intuitive in general. The irony that stalks me everywhere, has decided to give me a gift and then follow that up with the inability to use it effectively.
I do everything to excess. My last longish-term significant other and I had sex 6 times in one day, the first day at her new apartment a couple years back. After that we rarely ever did it more than once in a day, for almost a year thereafter. But it was still pretty good. It was funny too, the 6th time, I actually had a massive headache-y head rush simultaneously with an orgasm and it freaked me out. I thought I had fuckin' given myself a tumor or something. That isn't exactly far-fetched either, given I'd had cancer from 6 to 12 or so. The increased risk is huge they say.
Enough. That's enough dirty laundry for one clothesline.
That really made me think. He is right. I take inspiration from everything else but myself. I'm pathological about avoiding a confrontation with myself. I need to stop refusing to address some of these things. It's time to stop being motivated by what other people think of me, too. Being concerned with what other people think of me is a crippling problem that I can side-step, in theory. It's stupid to live precariously through other people.
I did well on my unannounced quiz from microeconomics. I got the highest score in the class, too (43/50). But that doesn't mean I was the only one that got that score. That's not known by me. To give you an idea what this class is like, the scores ranged from 7-43 and the mean was 29.4 with 35 people in the class. I think some people seriously underestimated their degree choices. Some of these people are not cut out for economics. 7 out of 50? What, would it kill you to at least read the book? lol.
That was a tangential, digressionary field trip. Sometimes I make up words. Like my name, disynthetic. It's fun.
When I was fretting about the meaning and value of my existence, it occurred to me that my past drinking habits seem to be a form of self-harming. A slow form of killing myself. That's really dumb. There's something about me that I really don't like, if that's what is true.
So here's one true thing:
I don't know how to whistle, snap my fingers, or change the oil in my car. But I can sing... and I can think of unnecessary comebacks at inappropriate times in the middle of arguments that make the other person so mad that they hate me and forget what they were going to say. I don't think this is a strength, by the way. Hehe.
More true stuff:
I can cook a wide array of culinary delights in a dizzying assortment of methods.
I'm working on a B.S. in Economics because my instructor for Principles of Microeconomics made a good impression on me during my A.A. in Business Administration degree. Yet I'm not certain if I love it. I just like it. I don't know what I "love" as a career. But I know that my passion for cooking has become limited to the home and for friends and family.
I have a very difficult time talking to girls before I get to know them. I don't know why. My mind blanks. It feels unnatural. It's hard to explain. And this makes no sense because I'm told often that I'm charismatic. I know that many independent sources couldn't be wrong, but I don't believe it.
Sometimes when I'm hungover, I get unusually emotional during television shows and movies. Like, haha, not like crying because I haven't done that since my grandfather blew his head off on my birthday last summer. More like the kind of emotional where you feel sympathy for everything and everyone like you're on ecstasy or something. Which I haven't and won't ever try, I've just heard that about it. It doesn't go so far as if someone eats a cookie that I actually feel sad about the cookie dying. Nothing like that.
Another true thing: I have a MUCH harder time reading the emotions of people I'm closer to than that of people I know next to nothing about. I'm a cancer. We're very intuitive in general. The irony that stalks me everywhere, has decided to give me a gift and then follow that up with the inability to use it effectively.
I do everything to excess. My last longish-term significant other and I had sex 6 times in one day, the first day at her new apartment a couple years back. After that we rarely ever did it more than once in a day, for almost a year thereafter. But it was still pretty good. It was funny too, the 6th time, I actually had a massive headache-y head rush simultaneously with an orgasm and it freaked me out. I thought I had fuckin' given myself a tumor or something. That isn't exactly far-fetched either, given I'd had cancer from 6 to 12 or so. The increased risk is huge they say.
Enough. That's enough dirty laundry for one clothesline.
Kind of the same, kind of not. I hear of things all the time that I thought were my own concept when I was little -- I mean, they were my own concept. But they apparently always existed, or are now being marketed or something. And it's kind of weird. My biggie-invention? Reincarnation. Yep. I penned that one myself when I was five or six. At church camp, no less. No one was super thrilled.
..
I just walked away for ten minutes and almost navigated away from this page without sending.
Anyway, nice picture change -- but I can't tell your eye color. ;]
Very curious about this cooking skill. May be jealousy. Or maybe you can toss me an easy beginners recipe .. as, at the moment, I'm eating melted cheese and black olives .. and sliced ham. All mashed together with no reason. :/
Jeez. You put so much information in this. It's tempting me to go alphabet-format and respond to everything, but I'm resisting. Resisting. Resisting.
I once [and never again] went ten times in one twenty-four hour period, sex-wise. I am pretty sure after number five or six, we were both at least mildly disinterested, if not annoyed by nine and ten. Haha. Ugh.
Arrgh, and I want to go to sleep now, but I want to ask about the facepalm-status. Hmph. Curiosity. ;/
..
Okaysleepwinsbye.