(no subject)
i have no purpose. i had always thought of freedom as a happy thing until i considered my uselessness. there's a freedom, sure, a release of responsibility and a lack of perimeter, but why bother being without a sense of direction in which to be? if i am, in fact, at all, which is debateable as far as i'm concerned, that may be all well and fine but what do i do with my time? altruism clouds my judgement; maybe as an accident of evolution one of my malfunctions is that i cannot come to terms with an answerless question, though i can ask them ad nauseum. i feel passion for things, but i'm a deeply lazy person. i have to admit that, before i can get anything else done. i am lazy, and i do make stupid and selfish decisions. i have unrealistic ideas, for all my love of logic.
i watched a documentary the other day about the VLT [very large telecope] in the Atacama Desert, and they spent a few minutes discussing the living conditions of the astronomers. the scientists mentioned their love of coffee, what with the late hours and all, and i realized that it would be lovely to be a barista in an observatory. so that's a dream that's bouncing around my brain right now, but it's a dream like any others of a thousand. i've dreamed of chemistry, philology, forensic anthropology, carpentry, writing...it's all just thoughts. and sure, i even tried to make peace with my status as less of a do-er and more of a say-er by writing, but even then i have no real drive to create anything more substantial than these masturbatory entries here.
sometimes i think about romance.
anyway, i guess what i'm trying to say is that i have nothing to say. gosh i wish irony weren't so fashionable right now. i'd be one edgy motherfucker.
i watched a documentary the other day about the VLT [very large telecope] in the Atacama Desert, and they spent a few minutes discussing the living conditions of the astronomers. the scientists mentioned their love of coffee, what with the late hours and all, and i realized that it would be lovely to be a barista in an observatory. so that's a dream that's bouncing around my brain right now, but it's a dream like any others of a thousand. i've dreamed of chemistry, philology, forensic anthropology, carpentry, writing...it's all just thoughts. and sure, i even tried to make peace with my status as less of a do-er and more of a say-er by writing, but even then i have no real drive to create anything more substantial than these masturbatory entries here.
sometimes i think about romance.
anyway, i guess what i'm trying to say is that i have nothing to say. gosh i wish irony weren't so fashionable right now. i'd be one edgy motherfucker.