People who know People

Are probably quite confused. Today was... interesting. My long week came to a dramatic conclusion with me getting cranky and sullen, fatigued by my contacts and generally in a tired, misanthropic mood. It was brightened by some pleasant people, but knowing me I had to look for acid rain in the silver lined clouds.

I don't like falling into my hateful slumps. They're generally caused by odd combinations of outward hate targetted in my general direction, doubt, fatigue (mental and physical), and stress . They happen, and I gradually become more shelled and lethargic. Really they're more evidence of my probably bi-polarity. The opposite can also be true, where I'm ecstatic and have very little self-control. Both seemed triggered by social situations and fed by hate/approval depending on the mood. It's a byproduct off my need for approval/dislike for disapproval. They're basic human qualities, I suppose, but it seems like I can be affected a lot more by them than some other people. For instance, I generally try to make people laugh. When I can't, it disturbs me, lowers my general mood setting, and makes me feel as if I'm failing. It's one of the reasons I idealistically avoid conversations/voluntary social interaction: I don't like to feel like I'm failing. It's really an interesting flaw. Go figure.

But I was slightly cheered by talking to other people. I tried to feed off their positive energy. It's odd how some people can be so... different depending on the environment and atmosphere. I'm a good example, what with my mood swings. The difference between real life and online is noticeable too. Online I'm more well-spoken and can come up with more randomness. In real life, I can be wilder and more active, which can be good or bad (depending on if yelling "WE HATES THE FIRE" is embarrasing to you. Lee). Obviously the medium makes a difference, but it's certainly odd nevertheless.

Instead of going to the dance (I don't like loud, cramped, pointless social gatherings), I walked on the Third Creek track. It was genuinely frightening. The uncertainty, the possibilities, my annoying imagination. I formed all sorts of scenarios where I'd be ambushed by concealed drunken frat boys or FBI ninjas or the like and robbed, murdered, or , even worse, forced to dance to rap. It was even worse when the train came. It was eeire, the noise, the darkness, the disturbing realization that no one could hear me scream when the leaves parted and a regular Yeti came to drag me to his ocean layer and use me as a tax write-off as his common-law wife. "But Dylan, there's no ocean around here," you obstinately proclaim. Well, dear reader, you haven't spent much time in the Yeti underground blackmarket have you? No. You haven't. So quit your sass, alright? Good.

Well, I suppose I'll head to bed. It's been a long week. Too long. And yet, very little was accomplished. It's a metaphor for life! Just like trains. And ... everything. I need to relax. Someone teach me how. Please?