Well hello there Friday. I see you're peaking out around the corner. It's nice to see you again. It seems just like yesterday we were last together, and here we are again. Isn't that lovely, time just flying by? I wozxcasdds.....*BEEP*. *ERROR*. * IDYLLIC BULLSHIT GENERATOR FAILURE*.
I'm terribly sorry about that. I try to take better care of it, I really do, but these days it seems to not really be all that ... of a pressing matter. I mean really, at this point there is no one other than the cat that has to put up with it, and I'm starting to suspect that it's grandiose amount of patience and love for me are illusions created by the fact that it really can't understand a single damn thing I'm saying, and the natural habit of cats to just not give a crap about anything that doesn't concern them or affect them on a certain level. Hang on. I gotta get more coffee.
Back. I really should stop drinking coffee - I already wake up way too much at night to the point where I'm finding it hard to put in a full 3 hour REM cycle. It's messing with me a bit, and the overcompensation with caffeine is slowly losing it's effect. This is not good and needs to be managed before it becomes a severe impediment.
On the note of impediments, here's what I'm really here to talk about today. I'm starting to find it hard to maintain proper balance, in the emotional sense. I think in a way, the people around act as a bit of an emotional balast in that they prevent you from swinging up and down too far in either direction, too fast. I have days where I feel absolutely stellar - I have days where I do not, and they seem to be alternating at random. I am finding it hard to anchor my feelings to some sort of reasonable medium standard. I need to find some way to deal with this before again, it becomes a problem.
I also have another issue. I just seem to have a lost a certain level of caring with respect to the behavioral norm. Not in the sense that I run down the street naked or anything, but some level of tact and empathy seems to be missing...no. Missing is not the right word. Dormant! That's the one...lovely word. Word of the week in fact. Write that down. I find myself caring less and less about what people have to say or think. Not in the total complete "caution, norms, and syntax out the window and bring out the prick" but in the fact that I seem to try to be using logic and my own reasoning to justify dismissing others. I'm not yet sure whether this bothers me, but it somewhat feels like it should. The fact that it doesn't scares me. I was stuck behind a very out-of-shape individual on a bicycle, who was biking on the road. On a good day, it would have been handled with an exasperated sigh and a stare out the sunroof while me and my other 19 compatriots in what I will dub the "frustration train" puddled along at 10 KM/H in a 50 KM/H road because this person decided not to move to the side and there was no proper passing opportunity. On a bad day, I would have probably spent at least five minutes screaming in the car with the windows rolled up so no one could hear, because while extremely irate, I was still trying to be considerate and mindful of the fact that no one else is necessarily interested in my own opinion. On this particular fine day, I decided it would be prudent to roll down my windows and belt out "Is the road shoulder not wide enough for your fat ass?" at the top of my lungs, and then proceeded to rev the engine and generally give the impression that I was about to run this individual down to the point where the person stopped, got off the bike, and started walking it down the sidewalk because they couldn't handle me. And you know what? I liked it, and I felt good about it, and I don't normally revel in terrifying other people. But damn them to hell on this particular day. I mean...a certain level of self-assertiveness is surely a good thing, but was that really necessary? If I had others around me, I would have likely kept my mouth shut to avoid their scrutiny. With no one to answer to save myself...well you know. Maybe I really am an asshole.
Hmm...what else? I mean, I'm really trying hard, and really, really, hard, to justify the above. Grammar geeks please don't hurt me - I realized I just abused the comma there like a man of the cloth with a young b....err, nevermind. I don't want to go there. Too soon. (Or is it?). I find myself in an interesting position. I still have the usually physical needs. I mean, what guy doesn't like to fuck? I find myself fairly lonely in this respect, to the point of craving that kind of thing, but the mere prospect of allowing a woman to enter my life scares the bejesus out of me. I don't feel like being manipulated and lied to again. At the same time, I don't want to pull the old "hump and dump" maneuver as men already have a bad enough name as it is, and I don't want to sink to that level. At least, I'm not OK with sinking to it yet, and really hope my general lack of giving a fuck doesn't progress to the point where that becomes OK. Sometimes if you let yourself go too far, you just don't come back. Gotta find a way to work through that. Christ. Maybe I should just hire a bunch of hookers (sorry...ladies of the night, let's say) and spend the weekend doing lines of blow off of someone's enhanced tits. I don't like boobies (or breasts, or whatever you want to call them) with implants, but I imagine being much more firm, they would be more suitable to the purpose. This is far from the smartest idea I've ever had, but it has a strange kind of appeal. I mean, if you're tired of yourself, don't want to kill yourself in any way, but still fancy a bit of self-destructive behavior with a party twist (the kind that comes with that cute little toothpick umbrella contraption), there's a hell of a weekend. But, it really probably won't happen. I don't like snorting things, and cocaine scares me as I already have a fairly shock-prone cardio system that doesn't need any additional stress. God knows that caffeine doesn't help. And that nasty-ass drip down the back of your throat...oh bleh. It'll just probably be me, coffee, the cat, and internet spaceships all over again, but we won't find out till we get there.
Until then, goodnight moon.
I'm terribly sorry about that. I try to take better care of it, I really do, but these days it seems to not really be all that ... of a pressing matter. I mean really, at this point there is no one other than the cat that has to put up with it, and I'm starting to suspect that it's grandiose amount of patience and love for me are illusions created by the fact that it really can't understand a single damn thing I'm saying, and the natural habit of cats to just not give a crap about anything that doesn't concern them or affect them on a certain level. Hang on. I gotta get more coffee.
Back. I really should stop drinking coffee - I already wake up way too much at night to the point where I'm finding it hard to put in a full 3 hour REM cycle. It's messing with me a bit, and the overcompensation with caffeine is slowly losing it's effect. This is not good and needs to be managed before it becomes a severe impediment.
On the note of impediments, here's what I'm really here to talk about today. I'm starting to find it hard to maintain proper balance, in the emotional sense. I think in a way, the people around act as a bit of an emotional balast in that they prevent you from swinging up and down too far in either direction, too fast. I have days where I feel absolutely stellar - I have days where I do not, and they seem to be alternating at random. I am finding it hard to anchor my feelings to some sort of reasonable medium standard. I need to find some way to deal with this before again, it becomes a problem.
I also have another issue. I just seem to have a lost a certain level of caring with respect to the behavioral norm. Not in the sense that I run down the street naked or anything, but some level of tact and empathy seems to be missing...no. Missing is not the right word. Dormant! That's the one...lovely word. Word of the week in fact. Write that down. I find myself caring less and less about what people have to say or think. Not in the total complete "caution, norms, and syntax out the window and bring out the prick" but in the fact that I seem to try to be using logic and my own reasoning to justify dismissing others. I'm not yet sure whether this bothers me, but it somewhat feels like it should. The fact that it doesn't scares me. I was stuck behind a very out-of-shape individual on a bicycle, who was biking on the road. On a good day, it would have been handled with an exasperated sigh and a stare out the sunroof while me and my other 19 compatriots in what I will dub the "frustration train" puddled along at 10 KM/H in a 50 KM/H road because this person decided not to move to the side and there was no proper passing opportunity. On a bad day, I would have probably spent at least five minutes screaming in the car with the windows rolled up so no one could hear, because while extremely irate, I was still trying to be considerate and mindful of the fact that no one else is necessarily interested in my own opinion. On this particular fine day, I decided it would be prudent to roll down my windows and belt out "Is the road shoulder not wide enough for your fat ass?" at the top of my lungs, and then proceeded to rev the engine and generally give the impression that I was about to run this individual down to the point where the person stopped, got off the bike, and started walking it down the sidewalk because they couldn't handle me. And you know what? I liked it, and I felt good about it, and I don't normally revel in terrifying other people. But damn them to hell on this particular day. I mean...a certain level of self-assertiveness is surely a good thing, but was that really necessary? If I had others around me, I would have likely kept my mouth shut to avoid their scrutiny. With no one to answer to save myself...well you know. Maybe I really am an asshole.
Hmm...what else? I mean, I'm really trying hard, and really, really, hard, to justify the above. Grammar geeks please don't hurt me - I realized I just abused the comma there like a man of the cloth with a young b....err, nevermind. I don't want to go there. Too soon. (Or is it?). I find myself in an interesting position. I still have the usually physical needs. I mean, what guy doesn't like to fuck? I find myself fairly lonely in this respect, to the point of craving that kind of thing, but the mere prospect of allowing a woman to enter my life scares the bejesus out of me. I don't feel like being manipulated and lied to again. At the same time, I don't want to pull the old "hump and dump" maneuver as men already have a bad enough name as it is, and I don't want to sink to that level. At least, I'm not OK with sinking to it yet, and really hope my general lack of giving a fuck doesn't progress to the point where that becomes OK. Sometimes if you let yourself go too far, you just don't come back. Gotta find a way to work through that. Christ. Maybe I should just hire a bunch of hookers (sorry...ladies of the night, let's say) and spend the weekend doing lines of blow off of someone's enhanced tits. I don't like boobies (or breasts, or whatever you want to call them) with implants, but I imagine being much more firm, they would be more suitable to the purpose. This is far from the smartest idea I've ever had, but it has a strange kind of appeal. I mean, if you're tired of yourself, don't want to kill yourself in any way, but still fancy a bit of self-destructive behavior with a party twist (the kind that comes with that cute little toothpick umbrella contraption), there's a hell of a weekend. But, it really probably won't happen. I don't like snorting things, and cocaine scares me as I already have a fairly shock-prone cardio system that doesn't need any additional stress. God knows that caffeine doesn't help. And that nasty-ass drip down the back of your throat...oh bleh. It'll just probably be me, coffee, the cat, and internet spaceships all over again, but we won't find out till we get there.
Until then, goodnight moon.