Lightning! Thunder! New blog colors! Oh my! Heh, well, anyway... Posts have been a tad scarce
lately, I guess because I haven't really been motivated. A crisis of faith I suppose (funny story, actually; I was reading Hamlet and thought 'Gee, the combined essay would be better about a crisis of faith than the death of the father!' Then I remembered/realized that the Father=God so the death of the father is the death of faith. I felt dirty. Ah well, one book down, two to go...). nyway, back to me whining. I suppose I could do the normal blog thing and write about my
day. You know, like other people do. But I read those and don't find them particularly intriguing. They're interesting, at least when there's some complaints/conflict but plain journal entries with no or little insight seem rather boring. Whether they're preferable to angst/depressed/foolish rants on nothing but existence is hard to say. I'd rather read that than "Today I saw a bird. It was pretty. Pretty birdy, fly with me, take me up into your tree. We'll build a nest way up high and from up there I'll look down and sigh about the silly movements of the silly peoples down below. Below they walk in ones and twos, wear reds and blues in brand new shoes, and I find myself trapped with no escape, a formless shape in a bloblike mold of society's machinelike tread. I'd rather be dead." Actually, I'd find that interesting. But "I saw a bird" alone, not so much. It helps to know the person too. However, when I read something I'm intrigued by, I respond. It takes some work, I know. You feel like you're exposing yourself, ready to be ridiculed on all ends. But once you do it a few times, it's not so bad. I like communication. Leave some constructive comments, or just plain comments in general. I do on the two blogs I read (and would on the others, if I had any). I dunno, I guess since this is one big expose of the dregs of the teenage experience it's not easy to read or easy to comment on. I find it hard to believe you don't have an opinion, but I can understand your unwillingness to relate it. Don't be afraid, I won't bite. I'll appreciate you for it :).
You see, all most of us are looking for is a bit of encouragement. Steady encouragement, but it doesn'thave to be overwhelming. I try to encourage when I think I need to. I try to compliment, even though it often doesn't occur to me. But a response to know the world isn't cold and ncaring... is that too much to ask? When you respond, we get interesting things like the DnD of life. When you don't, you get nothing. Pretty easy, in my book. Ah well. I suppose I'm also a tad disheartened because I'm putting off my reading. It's a constant weight on me, but I don't do it. I can't rationalize any big projects, but I can do lots of small stuff to grind away that oh so valuable ore of the future into the dust of time.
Actually, of note, I went to talk to UT's Honors Rep. He was a nice guy, the program didn't sound that bad. If I can get a scholarship or two to pay for my expenses, UT wouldn't be that bad an option. Andy likes it, and if it's good enough for Andy then it's probably going to be tolerable for me! I'll go to Maryville sometime soon. Hopefully I'll get a good impression.
And the AP scores came today. 4 in Chemistry and Stats, 5 in US History and English. Not too surprising, but still disappointing. Well, UT accepts 4's so I guess a 5 is a bit redundant. Oh, and I made a 31 on my ACT (33 in English, 32 in Reading, 30 in Math, 27 in Science) in case I didn't tell you. Again, it's those strange signals. I get better scores in English than Math. Maybe things will look up next time I take it. A 31 isn't too bad, but it's still not that great. If only I hadn't
missed the SAT... Ah well. Maybe they'll be enough to encourage me to write when I get job. "Missing Mr. Mandius" might become a reality! One can only hope.
At any rate, once I get clearance that you've all read through Perse, I'll get around to continuing it. At the moment, it seems people have lost interest in the summer. When school starts, I should be busy busy busy! And remind me to email Mr. Petko about the gaming club. How's this for a motto : "The West High Gaming Club: Procrastination in Style. Eh, I still need a better title. Boards for the Bored, Cards for the Cards is another good motto, but not a suitable title. We'll see. I don't even know if it'll work. Anyway, the storm's over. Time for some computer games! Maybe I'll update "The Dream" tomorrow... Heh, you won't know til then though. And neither will I. Farewell!
Saturday, July 17
Monday, July 12
Inspiration
What luck! It would appear I've attained the computer when it's not occupied by another user. Write with a pen you say? Never! Well, sometimes. But it's just not my "thing."
Anyway, it is indeed a momentous event when I am struck by a muse, be it in the stomach, heart, soul, or kidneys, and I'm actually able to convey it into some medium allowing me to perhaps someday remember whatever frivilous half-truths I've discovered. How does such an epiphany happen? Oh, numerous ways. A setting, a phrase, an emotion, boredom. Often it strikes during movies when the full-on escape slips a bit due to lack of complete immersion. I have ideas, plans, get inspired and things start looking a bit up. Of course, soon enough I'll fall back in the cess pool I crawled out of, but that's irrelevant at the moment. No, now I have to tell you oh revelations, plans, and hopelessness.
You see, I've always struggled with greatness. Or lackthereof. As I've mentioned, it's a combination of envy, inferiority, and desire for some sort of purpose. I can go the nihilistic route, watering all accomplishment down to triviality, and it seems to make things a bit bearable. But nihilism is no way to live. It's not even a good way to die. Thus, I force myself to award praise where praise is due. But that, in turn, forces me to feel unpraised. However, I think I've come up with a way to cope.
You see, people like me serve a valuable purpose. Well, I say "people like me", but I suppose I mean anyone who tries. Anyone who reaches for the stars for no better reason than because they can. Everyone can reach. Few can actually grasp. But are the failures no less important than the successes? To fail is to have tried, and to try is to have a probability of success. There can be no success without failure.
I don't know, in some ways it seems we all have responsibilities. If there is even a minute chance that we could achieve something "great" (and by great I mean inspiring, moving, beneficial) then we should try our hardest to do it. Think of the tragedy of an unwritten masterpiece. The pallid silence of an uncomposed song. The bland dullness of an unpainted artwork. The chances of you having such a thing stored somewhere inside of you? Minute to an unbelievable degree. But there is a chance. If there is a chance that you could achieve something to a "great" extent, take it. If you fail, you at least rolled the die. If you fail, you can rest easily knowing that you have attempted. There should be no disappointment in failing after trying. No, but perhaps "failure" is not the correct term. You have "not succeeded." The only way to truly fail is to not try. What if Dvorak had said, "You know, the New World's pretty passe. It doesn't need it's own symphony. But we can always use another accountant!"? What if Joseph Heller had thought, "You know, I hate to love writing, so I won't begin before I quit." What if plenty of people had not tried, had given up, had decided it's too much work. Even worse, think of all we've lost by those who haven't. Imagine all the wonders, all the almost divine creations that were aborted in the mental womb because an individual had doubt.
The same can be the opposite, though. Imagine all the horrors that have been averted by someone waking from a deluded dream. Imagine the monstrosities a corrupted mind would fathomed into twisted realizations if they had not lost their inspiration. Well, to that I say make yours a good one. Have the right reasons, help all people while hurting none. You may make mistakes, just realize them and improve. Constantly strive to achieve because you might just actually do it. As long as you try, you've done all that can be expected of you. All of your detractors can decry your less than perfect creations that didn't quite make the cut. They don't matter. Don't commit the crime of apathy.
Heh, I'm as silly when I'm optimistic and inspiring as I am when I'm pessimistic and desolate. Ah well. It certainly feels better trying to be positive. At any rate, my inspiration was two fold. You see, I have this idea that no facet of reality is of any greater worth than any other. From saints to sinners, celebrities to no-bodys, successes to failures they all form the framework of existence that enables every other aspect. What does it mean? Should we languish in contentment, nursing the knowledge that we as individuals are already fulfilling our purpose, we need only let those with a will find a way? Perhaps. But if you've a chance to fulfill a prophecy of positive benefit to others, who are you to stop yourself? See, I don't think enough people realize how valuable they are. The "cult of celebrity" is like a splotch on humanity. It creates the false impression that some people deserve reverence. In fact, all people deserve it. All people have potential and effect others. Hopefully you're enlightened enough to make that a positive effect.
So I want to write that in a novel. Write a regular, story-ish approach for the first part. Then form sort of an omnipotent life form that watchs its' effects on humanity til the end of time. Then a bizarre death sequence, written in the illogical style of that "Fantasy" entry I wrote earlier. And then have the entire thing start over and fade away. I'd like to do that. I think I'll try it. A book supporting every man's worth that hits nihilism over the head with an overweight tuna. I'd like to. My mileage may vary. But hopefully I'll try.
And thus, my entry comes to a close. It's a shame I won't succeed. But failures are just as important as successes. I guess that makes them successes too. It's all relative :).
Anyway, it is indeed a momentous event when I am struck by a muse, be it in the stomach, heart, soul, or kidneys, and I'm actually able to convey it into some medium allowing me to perhaps someday remember whatever frivilous half-truths I've discovered. How does such an epiphany happen? Oh, numerous ways. A setting, a phrase, an emotion, boredom. Often it strikes during movies when the full-on escape slips a bit due to lack of complete immersion. I have ideas, plans, get inspired and things start looking a bit up. Of course, soon enough I'll fall back in the cess pool I crawled out of, but that's irrelevant at the moment. No, now I have to tell you oh revelations, plans, and hopelessness.
You see, I've always struggled with greatness. Or lackthereof. As I've mentioned, it's a combination of envy, inferiority, and desire for some sort of purpose. I can go the nihilistic route, watering all accomplishment down to triviality, and it seems to make things a bit bearable. But nihilism is no way to live. It's not even a good way to die. Thus, I force myself to award praise where praise is due. But that, in turn, forces me to feel unpraised. However, I think I've come up with a way to cope.
You see, people like me serve a valuable purpose. Well, I say "people like me", but I suppose I mean anyone who tries. Anyone who reaches for the stars for no better reason than because they can. Everyone can reach. Few can actually grasp. But are the failures no less important than the successes? To fail is to have tried, and to try is to have a probability of success. There can be no success without failure.
I don't know, in some ways it seems we all have responsibilities. If there is even a minute chance that we could achieve something "great" (and by great I mean inspiring, moving, beneficial) then we should try our hardest to do it. Think of the tragedy of an unwritten masterpiece. The pallid silence of an uncomposed song. The bland dullness of an unpainted artwork. The chances of you having such a thing stored somewhere inside of you? Minute to an unbelievable degree. But there is a chance. If there is a chance that you could achieve something to a "great" extent, take it. If you fail, you at least rolled the die. If you fail, you can rest easily knowing that you have attempted. There should be no disappointment in failing after trying. No, but perhaps "failure" is not the correct term. You have "not succeeded." The only way to truly fail is to not try. What if Dvorak had said, "You know, the New World's pretty passe. It doesn't need it's own symphony. But we can always use another accountant!"? What if Joseph Heller had thought, "You know, I hate to love writing, so I won't begin before I quit." What if plenty of people had not tried, had given up, had decided it's too much work. Even worse, think of all we've lost by those who haven't. Imagine all the wonders, all the almost divine creations that were aborted in the mental womb because an individual had doubt.
The same can be the opposite, though. Imagine all the horrors that have been averted by someone waking from a deluded dream. Imagine the monstrosities a corrupted mind would fathomed into twisted realizations if they had not lost their inspiration. Well, to that I say make yours a good one. Have the right reasons, help all people while hurting none. You may make mistakes, just realize them and improve. Constantly strive to achieve because you might just actually do it. As long as you try, you've done all that can be expected of you. All of your detractors can decry your less than perfect creations that didn't quite make the cut. They don't matter. Don't commit the crime of apathy.
Heh, I'm as silly when I'm optimistic and inspiring as I am when I'm pessimistic and desolate. Ah well. It certainly feels better trying to be positive. At any rate, my inspiration was two fold. You see, I have this idea that no facet of reality is of any greater worth than any other. From saints to sinners, celebrities to no-bodys, successes to failures they all form the framework of existence that enables every other aspect. What does it mean? Should we languish in contentment, nursing the knowledge that we as individuals are already fulfilling our purpose, we need only let those with a will find a way? Perhaps. But if you've a chance to fulfill a prophecy of positive benefit to others, who are you to stop yourself? See, I don't think enough people realize how valuable they are. The "cult of celebrity" is like a splotch on humanity. It creates the false impression that some people deserve reverence. In fact, all people deserve it. All people have potential and effect others. Hopefully you're enlightened enough to make that a positive effect.
So I want to write that in a novel. Write a regular, story-ish approach for the first part. Then form sort of an omnipotent life form that watchs its' effects on humanity til the end of time. Then a bizarre death sequence, written in the illogical style of that "Fantasy" entry I wrote earlier. And then have the entire thing start over and fade away. I'd like to do that. I think I'll try it. A book supporting every man's worth that hits nihilism over the head with an overweight tuna. I'd like to. My mileage may vary. But hopefully I'll try.
And thus, my entry comes to a close. It's a shame I won't succeed. But failures are just as important as successes. I guess that makes them successes too. It's all relative :).
Sunday, July 11
Heh
Ya know, I considered deleting the below, like I usually do, because I subsequently can see how much of it's wrong. But that's just one of the problems of being open-minded, you see too many sides of an issue. Hence, what I write is false, true, and both and I don't know when is what. Go figure.
Saturday, July 10
Nowhere Man
Ah, is it that time again? I've been so caught up in putting off everything to write all that much, but you can be assured the rollercoaster of my mind stops for no intermission. I don't know what to think of these new "circumstances", if you will (and you'd better!). On the one hand, I'm not bored. The holes of angst are now containable, I know what they're caused by, and if I was motivated I could fix them. Temporary solutions, of course, but the direct stress applied by the impending summer reading deadline does horrible things to a person's psyche. Heh, another reason I like Math, no big projects (At least my kinda math, but I digress)! Still, now that I recognize my "video gaming" actions as what they are, escaping (an identification I wasn't able to make a year ago), the charm is somewhat lost. I'm still running. Always running. My legs don't seem to be tiring. Only my heart. My heart, my soul, my mental state, they've obtained an interchangeable state in this area. And it all comes down to the same old problem. The same problem I've been plagued with since I started "coming into my own." You're all subject to it, more or less. It's the human condition. For "to err is human, to forgive divine." But we cannot forgive ourselves. We hold ourselves to higher standards that, when broken, do not warrant clemency. Punishment, beratement, stress, all and more are the self-inflicted castigations we pile upon ourselves for not achieving adequacy. The price of failure.
All things are perspective. You know it, I know it, most people know it deep down. But everyone knows failure. For many it's a nasty habit, for some a way of life. Failure is only what you make it. It can be anything, everything, or nothing, depending on the individual. The only real definition is your own. Unfortunately for many, their own personal definition is an impossibility. Such is the case with me. For all my thinking, I've created a lose/lose situation. My accomplishments and failures are now all based on other people. My hierarchy of success can only be measured by those beneath me and those above me. It's terrible, because it seems to violate my spirit. To become so very envious of all who are stronger/faster/better than I am. It's not so much a matter of personal traits, though. If someone is stronger than I am, I don't particularly mind. I've got other "talents." But it's when those "talents" are infringed upon that I'm really hit. It's gotten to the point that I can barely read another person's writing, listen to others create music, watch others make people laugh without it sending pangs of self-deploration throughout my body. I see others and think, "I want that. I want some way, some method to create, to entertain, to effect others in that way. But I'm too dumb/slow/simple/confused/worthless/untalented/insecure/incompetent to do it." I can't say, "Wow, that was good! I'm impressed!" and walk away feeling like I've witnessed something wonderful or at the very least pleasant. No, I have to either bring it down to make it appear trivial or unimportant or do the same thing to myself. Not out loud, never that. And never to people, either. Either the work or myself.
It's probably not that foreign a concept to most of you. People bring others down all the time. I wouldn't give it a second thought if it didn't distress me. But it's just the effects of that underlying problem. The root of what seems to be my insecurity, my stress, and my unstable mental state. Purpose. Perhaps that's not entirely apt, but it's the closest word that comes to mind. At the moment, I don't really have a purpose. I don't have a "niche." And as much as I'd like to believe otherwise, I need one. To create something thought provoking, to be entertaining, to contribute. Something that others appreciate. It seems to go against the "only your standards matter" philosophy, but when your standards are appreciation or what-have-you from others, it's hard. If I had something, anything, I think I'd be fine. I want a place. Writing, music, comedy, something. Anything! Anything so I can say "I do that, and do it well. It benefits others, it justifys me. It is a positive." Perhaps I just don't care enough to make my own standards, so I have to use others to form them for me. It seems I constantly seek positive affirmation, but so little of it comes. Most of it I can't trust. I don't trust compliments. I want sincere, honest, and truthful. I want people to say "I like that" and mean it. Like I've said before, laughter is the only way I can really tell. It's almost involtunary, most of the time. It's a true result. Everything else ... you have to convince me of.
I suppose it's the same for most people. I wouldn't know, none of them have ever told me. That desire for a purpose. Even if that purpose isn't appreciated, just the knowledge that you produce a positive effect would be enough. Some people want recognition or a monument or something. But I think what they really need is to be convinced that they're needed. That's why being loved is so wonderful. It the ideal sense, it provides that positive affirmation. It gives you a purpose. You only need one. Even if it's only one person. Heh, maybe I have it already but refuse to believe it because of my insecurity and paranoia. I think everyone's jaded by alterior motives and wants to make me feel better instead of telling me the truth. Why they can't be honest is beyond me. Deception, incorrigibility, and sadism are the things I dislike. Everything else ... Eh. Anyway, that's not what this is about. Maybe I just want to unique which is the most feasible impossibility that can ever come true. Ah well.
Anyway, that's part of the reason I haven't been writing much recently. No encouragement. And apparently I need that. Constantly. If it wanes, so do I. What can I do? Keep on riding the roller coaster I suppose, fully aware of my exaggerated inferiorities that aren't exaggerated at all. Eh, hopefully I'll be up again tomorrow. But the problem remains. I can run, I can ride, I can do whatever but it's still an illness I can't cure myself of. I want to fix it so badly... But, for now, I'm going nowhere. Care to find me?
All things are perspective. You know it, I know it, most people know it deep down. But everyone knows failure. For many it's a nasty habit, for some a way of life. Failure is only what you make it. It can be anything, everything, or nothing, depending on the individual. The only real definition is your own. Unfortunately for many, their own personal definition is an impossibility. Such is the case with me. For all my thinking, I've created a lose/lose situation. My accomplishments and failures are now all based on other people. My hierarchy of success can only be measured by those beneath me and those above me. It's terrible, because it seems to violate my spirit. To become so very envious of all who are stronger/faster/better than I am. It's not so much a matter of personal traits, though. If someone is stronger than I am, I don't particularly mind. I've got other "talents." But it's when those "talents" are infringed upon that I'm really hit. It's gotten to the point that I can barely read another person's writing, listen to others create music, watch others make people laugh without it sending pangs of self-deploration throughout my body. I see others and think, "I want that. I want some way, some method to create, to entertain, to effect others in that way. But I'm too dumb/slow/simple/confused/worthless/untalented/insecure/incompetent to do it." I can't say, "Wow, that was good! I'm impressed!" and walk away feeling like I've witnessed something wonderful or at the very least pleasant. No, I have to either bring it down to make it appear trivial or unimportant or do the same thing to myself. Not out loud, never that. And never to people, either. Either the work or myself.
It's probably not that foreign a concept to most of you. People bring others down all the time. I wouldn't give it a second thought if it didn't distress me. But it's just the effects of that underlying problem. The root of what seems to be my insecurity, my stress, and my unstable mental state. Purpose. Perhaps that's not entirely apt, but it's the closest word that comes to mind. At the moment, I don't really have a purpose. I don't have a "niche." And as much as I'd like to believe otherwise, I need one. To create something thought provoking, to be entertaining, to contribute. Something that others appreciate. It seems to go against the "only your standards matter" philosophy, but when your standards are appreciation or what-have-you from others, it's hard. If I had something, anything, I think I'd be fine. I want a place. Writing, music, comedy, something. Anything! Anything so I can say "I do that, and do it well. It benefits others, it justifys me. It is a positive." Perhaps I just don't care enough to make my own standards, so I have to use others to form them for me. It seems I constantly seek positive affirmation, but so little of it comes. Most of it I can't trust. I don't trust compliments. I want sincere, honest, and truthful. I want people to say "I like that" and mean it. Like I've said before, laughter is the only way I can really tell. It's almost involtunary, most of the time. It's a true result. Everything else ... you have to convince me of.
I suppose it's the same for most people. I wouldn't know, none of them have ever told me. That desire for a purpose. Even if that purpose isn't appreciated, just the knowledge that you produce a positive effect would be enough. Some people want recognition or a monument or something. But I think what they really need is to be convinced that they're needed. That's why being loved is so wonderful. It the ideal sense, it provides that positive affirmation. It gives you a purpose. You only need one. Even if it's only one person. Heh, maybe I have it already but refuse to believe it because of my insecurity and paranoia. I think everyone's jaded by alterior motives and wants to make me feel better instead of telling me the truth. Why they can't be honest is beyond me. Deception, incorrigibility, and sadism are the things I dislike. Everything else ... Eh. Anyway, that's not what this is about. Maybe I just want to unique which is the most feasible impossibility that can ever come true. Ah well.
Anyway, that's part of the reason I haven't been writing much recently. No encouragement. And apparently I need that. Constantly. If it wanes, so do I. What can I do? Keep on riding the roller coaster I suppose, fully aware of my exaggerated inferiorities that aren't exaggerated at all. Eh, hopefully I'll be up again tomorrow. But the problem remains. I can run, I can ride, I can do whatever but it's still an illness I can't cure myself of. I want to fix it so badly... But, for now, I'm going nowhere. Care to find me?
Tuesday, July 6
Late
Well, I'm back, albeit one day late. My mother wanted to stay another day, and I didn't particularly mind. But I thought of quite a few subjects to talk about while I was gone. It's a shame when you get the urge to write and the can't. I'll see how many I get to today. I've an idea for a nice poem, but it'll be a few hour endeavor at least.
So I was gone to a "family reunion" of sorts. Family is an interesting thing, especially outside of your immediate circle. I don't know how it is for you, but mine sort of has two sides. My mother's is sort of the wilder, rowdier, a tad hickish side whereas my father's is the more intellectual, uptight side. This annual reunion is at my mother's uncle's house on the lake. But it went well. Family is like a group of guaranteed friends. They hang out with you just because of your birth. Sure, you have to make an effort to get along, but if you don't make any snaffoos, you can get along wonderfully despite big differences. I dunno, it's a net of relations I'm not too familiar with. Maybe you do, but I don't really do much with anyone other that my parents and grandfather. And I don't really realize what I'm missing until I see all of them. But it's just like all my other relationships, pretty much. The other person needs to make the effort. I'll gladly respond (most of the time), but unless I've something pertinent to discuss, I generally keep to myself. It's lonely, but easy. Story of my life, eh?
I also got an accordion. My aunt got it dirt cheap through accident at a flea market and since she didn't use it, offered it to me. I've wanted to learn the fiddle/violin or accordion for awhile now. They've just got fuller sounds, more harmonious than the relatively thin, singular oboe sound. Of course, I'm not quitting the oboe. Playing in a band setting is great. But the accordion might provide that extra bit of oomph I need. Pardon the semi-pun hehe.
And I'm sure you less than frequent readers will be glad to know that I'm officially using this break to stop the daily postings. If it happens, it happens. I'm not going to force things.
Hmmm, not really too much. I guess the poem material is heftier than I thought. More on that later. For now I'll bid you goodnight. Everybody Polka!
So I was gone to a "family reunion" of sorts. Family is an interesting thing, especially outside of your immediate circle. I don't know how it is for you, but mine sort of has two sides. My mother's is sort of the wilder, rowdier, a tad hickish side whereas my father's is the more intellectual, uptight side. This annual reunion is at my mother's uncle's house on the lake. But it went well. Family is like a group of guaranteed friends. They hang out with you just because of your birth. Sure, you have to make an effort to get along, but if you don't make any snaffoos, you can get along wonderfully despite big differences. I dunno, it's a net of relations I'm not too familiar with. Maybe you do, but I don't really do much with anyone other that my parents and grandfather. And I don't really realize what I'm missing until I see all of them. But it's just like all my other relationships, pretty much. The other person needs to make the effort. I'll gladly respond (most of the time), but unless I've something pertinent to discuss, I generally keep to myself. It's lonely, but easy. Story of my life, eh?
I also got an accordion. My aunt got it dirt cheap through accident at a flea market and since she didn't use it, offered it to me. I've wanted to learn the fiddle/violin or accordion for awhile now. They've just got fuller sounds, more harmonious than the relatively thin, singular oboe sound. Of course, I'm not quitting the oboe. Playing in a band setting is great. But the accordion might provide that extra bit of oomph I need. Pardon the semi-pun hehe.
And I'm sure you less than frequent readers will be glad to know that I'm officially using this break to stop the daily postings. If it happens, it happens. I'm not going to force things.
Hmmm, not really too much. I guess the poem material is heftier than I thought. More on that later. For now I'll bid you goodnight. Everybody Polka!
Friday, July 2
Mexid Slagnis
Well, I got my ACT scores. Not up to my standards, but even Heaven doesn't meet those, so I'm really not one to judge. The interesting part is that I always, without fail, do better on the English/Reading sections than the Math/Science sections. Now, I can understand the Science. I really don't like it. Experiments in general annoy me. Give me theory anyday! But it does cast some doubt on my career choice, and doubt is one of the last things I need. I don't know. Well, time to run. I'll be gone til Monday, so no blog posts til then. We all knew it had to happen. You have a mission to post on Abner each of the next two days I don't! Don't fail me!
Thursday, July 1
Temporarily Satiated
Ah, tis sad indeed what a computer game does to me. I get so ... unmotivated to do anything else. I've barely considered writing any (probably a good thing), but most other pursuits have lost what little flare they had. I don't know if the absence of bordom and angst is good or bad, if it comes at the price of escapism. It's... difficult. What to do? I could try to limit myself, but I see no real point. I suppose the only course of action is to embrace it. Embrace it and sleep on beautiful clouds of imaginary, captivating delusions.