I have to admit, I've been really quite stuck on this "attention whore" thing lately. It's actually, turning me off from making journal entries that go beyond surface detail these last few days. I don't know... for fuck's sake, why can't I just do something like this without over-analyzing it? why can't I write in this journal without thinking about why I am writing this and does anyone really read this and if they do then what are they taking from it? Perhaps I've made a few too many journal entries that were very much so from the inside out and without really considering the outside perception of my words on the screen, and those entries were sort of misinterpreted or just the fact that anyone left a comment in my journal sort of threw me off... it's sort of like when you are caught adjusting yourself in public (you know, when you've got a wedgy or your nipple is poking out of your bra cause you did some kind of acrobatic-style move with your kid)... anyways... so I've decided to self-medicate this morning and just have mental and verbal diarrhea (sp?) - just let the shit flow and not think think think overthink. honestly, though, I can't help but think about this: about why I am here vs why other people think I am here... I dunno, I came here originally for the fun of it - my friend (formally know on SG as deezaster showed me this place and said the chicks were hot and the people were cool. fuck it, I thought - I spend most of my time on the computer anyway since it's the source of my livlihood, so why not take some time here and there and socialize? broaden my spectrum of human interaction (which had been very limited due to the lone parent to a small child thing)... But I came at it very feebly at first - didn't really seek out humans, just sort of let them come to me if they found me. Though I did find Llama the first day because he had just made a journal entry and it showed up on the hook-up page or wherever it was... so I read his words and his words were thought-provoking enough to comment on. And so I joined his harem of SG lovelies 
hehe... digression, digression - redirect - redirect.... yeah, so, .... oh man, now I am getting tired of writing this and you're probably bored out of your skull reading this, so I think I'll stop here. no need to tell a long-ass story.
point is, I am here. I sometimes spend too much time here. this place changed my life because, like a hole in the atmosphere, it allowed me to step outside of this dimension and see and be exposed to soooo much more. I was even spotted by a duck in another world and so began a very interesting and life-altering adventure. but the speed of that ride was so fast that it crashed into that fucking proverbial wall of reality and to smithereeeeeeens it exploded and blew away like dust. just like that. so fast. life lesson learned. noted. thank you. (though, dust, it does settle). but you know what? I don't want to be found anymore. I'm happy being lost. though lost is not an appropriate way to put it - cause i don't feel lost. I'm pretty sure of where I am and who I am. just don't care to found by collectors of rare art. that's right baby, I just referred to myself most egotistically as rare fucking art. whatever. words are just words are just words. don't mean a thing but also mean everything. we're all just attention whores here. but there's nothing really wrong with that. it is human nature to seek some sort of validation. some sort of connection in this vast world. and this place is an amazing portal to humanity. many introverts, even more extraverts, some psychos, some sickos, many many many thinking creatures, many troubles, many pains, many curiosities... we're all just reaching out. we're all just trying to touch someone without losing our skin. we all just want to know that time and space is moving and that we are moving with it and that we are not completely invisible.
I could just keep going forever with this mind flow. I figure the longer I make this the less chance of having it being read to the end. But I'm starting to feel the sense of duty again (it's the non-luxury of parenthood) where I know I have things to do and my son to entertain. it's saturday morning and we need to start packing. we're moving in 11 days. and I have to finish illustrating cocktails for an Aliz advertorial page. due monday. because the client is too fucking cheap to pay for photographs and too fucking disorganized to seek out the original photos that were taken by their own art team. no problem. more work=more money for me.
til the night..
hehe... digression, digression - redirect - redirect.... yeah, so, .... oh man, now I am getting tired of writing this and you're probably bored out of your skull reading this, so I think I'll stop here. no need to tell a long-ass story.
point is, I am here. I sometimes spend too much time here. this place changed my life because, like a hole in the atmosphere, it allowed me to step outside of this dimension and see and be exposed to soooo much more. I was even spotted by a duck in another world and so began a very interesting and life-altering adventure. but the speed of that ride was so fast that it crashed into that fucking proverbial wall of reality and to smithereeeeeeens it exploded and blew away like dust. just like that. so fast. life lesson learned. noted. thank you. (though, dust, it does settle). but you know what? I don't want to be found anymore. I'm happy being lost. though lost is not an appropriate way to put it - cause i don't feel lost. I'm pretty sure of where I am and who I am. just don't care to found by collectors of rare art. that's right baby, I just referred to myself most egotistically as rare fucking art. whatever. words are just words are just words. don't mean a thing but also mean everything. we're all just attention whores here. but there's nothing really wrong with that. it is human nature to seek some sort of validation. some sort of connection in this vast world. and this place is an amazing portal to humanity. many introverts, even more extraverts, some psychos, some sickos, many many many thinking creatures, many troubles, many pains, many curiosities... we're all just reaching out. we're all just trying to touch someone without losing our skin. we all just want to know that time and space is moving and that we are moving with it and that we are not completely invisible.
I could just keep going forever with this mind flow. I figure the longer I make this the less chance of having it being read to the end. But I'm starting to feel the sense of duty again (it's the non-luxury of parenthood) where I know I have things to do and my son to entertain. it's saturday morning and we need to start packing. we're moving in 11 days. and I have to finish illustrating cocktails for an Aliz advertorial page. due monday. because the client is too fucking cheap to pay for photographs and too fucking disorganized to seek out the original photos that were taken by their own art team. no problem. more work=more money for me.
til the night..
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
Maybe the middle part of the novella refers to noticing (or not), accepting and starting to enjoy the parts we thought we'd hidden. I agree that lost isn't the right word - in someways the opposite is likely more appropriate though the idea of "finding" oneself is an abstraction itself - suddenly we treat ourselves as an object that requires so form of meaning to be approprated to it. It's silly. And I'm tired and rambling.
Self contradiction! That's why I like our chats, Gypsy. Yes, it's important to me - It keeps me on my toes and it's a part of me I disliked for a long time but now enjoy. Some would likely call it inconsistent - I prefer to think of it as creative lane changing.