same old tripe.
< self-pity >
Couldn't sleep again tonight.
Nowadays I lie awake and stare at my ceiling, even though my medication is supposed to be a minor sleep-aid as well, and I worry. What do I worry about? My life. Where I'm going. I've been told by my shrink that it's healthy to have a fear of ending up somewhere as a desk jockey with a pointless paperwork filled job 9-5 monday thru friday, with the high point of my week being some television show. I guess I just want more out of life.
I'm deathly afraid that I won't be able to grasp it.
Gotta love how I tend to put forth this persona of someone who knows more or less where he's going, when I'm really much closer to the simple broken man, still trying to deal with something that happened to me a year ago that I can't seem to let go. Still trying to break my simple habits but woo weak to take the steps to do so. Still procrastinating past the point of no return with things like menial jobs because I just really don't like the idea of being something like a fast food worker any more, even for a month. I did it for three and it nearly drove me insane how the managers seemed to be completely satisfied with working 50+ hours a week and having their greatest pleasure be a bit of marijuana and a good bong.
Makes me sick thinking about it.
Still the same man that is direly lonely, but doesn't have the raw nerve to simply talk to a woman. Some days I'm manic enough to go out on a limb, more for entertainment than anything else, and I get lucky, but those days are rare. I let opportunities like that slip through my fingers like sand, and I'm left to play the what-if game, even though I know it's a bunch of defeatist bullshit.
Hell, most of this entry is defeatist bullshit.
So what am I going to do? To be honest, I'm going to finish this semester with something like a 2.75 because my douchebag english teacher doesn't like it when a student writes something other than the random pseudo-facts about a piece of prose's interpretation that he regurgitated into our minds and expects us to vomit back out in 1500 words or less.
I'm going to work with drew's mom doing grunt work putting up christmas decorations for 6 bucks an hour tax-free so I can buy christmas presents for my family and a couple of friends.
I'm going to party like my soul is about to blink out of existence on january 31st because this has been hands down the worst year of my life.
I'm going to go to MUW and try to turn myself into some semblance of a chef and businessman.
I'm going to give this world a fight like it's never seen before.
I'm going to live.
< /self-pity >
Couldn't sleep again tonight.
Nowadays I lie awake and stare at my ceiling, even though my medication is supposed to be a minor sleep-aid as well, and I worry. What do I worry about? My life. Where I'm going. I've been told by my shrink that it's healthy to have a fear of ending up somewhere as a desk jockey with a pointless paperwork filled job 9-5 monday thru friday, with the high point of my week being some television show. I guess I just want more out of life.
I'm deathly afraid that I won't be able to grasp it.
Gotta love how I tend to put forth this persona of someone who knows more or less where he's going, when I'm really much closer to the simple broken man, still trying to deal with something that happened to me a year ago that I can't seem to let go. Still trying to break my simple habits but woo weak to take the steps to do so. Still procrastinating past the point of no return with things like menial jobs because I just really don't like the idea of being something like a fast food worker any more, even for a month. I did it for three and it nearly drove me insane how the managers seemed to be completely satisfied with working 50+ hours a week and having their greatest pleasure be a bit of marijuana and a good bong.
Makes me sick thinking about it.
Still the same man that is direly lonely, but doesn't have the raw nerve to simply talk to a woman. Some days I'm manic enough to go out on a limb, more for entertainment than anything else, and I get lucky, but those days are rare. I let opportunities like that slip through my fingers like sand, and I'm left to play the what-if game, even though I know it's a bunch of defeatist bullshit.
Hell, most of this entry is defeatist bullshit.
So what am I going to do? To be honest, I'm going to finish this semester with something like a 2.75 because my douchebag english teacher doesn't like it when a student writes something other than the random pseudo-facts about a piece of prose's interpretation that he regurgitated into our minds and expects us to vomit back out in 1500 words or less.
I'm going to work with drew's mom doing grunt work putting up christmas decorations for 6 bucks an hour tax-free so I can buy christmas presents for my family and a couple of friends.
I'm going to party like my soul is about to blink out of existence on january 31st because this has been hands down the worst year of my life.
I'm going to go to MUW and try to turn myself into some semblance of a chef and businessman.
I'm going to give this world a fight like it's never seen before.
I'm going to live.
< /self-pity >