(no subject)
life is a strange and confusing thing, from time to time. i have been so stressed, and relieved, and tired, and frusterated, and ecstatic, and angry, and triumphant, and hopeful recently, i am all feelinged out. i think i have a bad habit of worrying about problems before they actually exist, and seeking the answers to questions that have yet to even come into play way before i should. basically, im retarded, but hey, that's not exactly breaking news.
the neon is almost fixed. as of tomorrow, it will be official - i will have given pete the first good car he has ever owned, and i feel really good about it. i will also have been neglecting my own life for pretty much all of this year in favor of one of the most inconsequentially petty "careers" imaginable, which eats my time and energy like a homeless guy on a t-bone. ive been wondering recently what i am doing this for, but i seriously just have no idea. i think that the pride i derive from kicking ass at my job is slowly starting to just not quite cut it. i need to go on an adventure soon, or im going to lose it. i think in a lot of ways, im already starting to. normally, i meditate, and figure out why i do all of the stupid things that i do. the past month, ive been making decisions, and watching as they pass, and get in my car having no idea what i'm doing at all, and just know that i need to sleep so i can spend more time at good ol' hangar 18. i dont really feel like me, and people have been commenting that they dont either, and its starting to make me think. in between the exhaustion, i have moments of clarity and relieved contentedness, but they just dont last long enough. i need to sleep. for like a week. im sick of not feeling like me, because i remember feeling like me as being pretty cool, and i want to get back tto doing that.
ive been making music recently. it's not that good, but it's not bad. it's nice to lie to yourself about having hidden skills, so i plan to do that until someone smacks me for it.
also, the fifth through eighth sentence of page 123 of the closest book at hand is as follows:
"when he got it to the point where he thought he'd be able to open it, he cautiously folded the knife and put it away. Then he lifted the lid.
At first he thought he was looking at a thermos bottle, one of those expensive stainless steel numbers, but as he lifted it out, the heft of it and the general fineness of manufacture told him that it was something else,"
the neon is almost fixed. as of tomorrow, it will be official - i will have given pete the first good car he has ever owned, and i feel really good about it. i will also have been neglecting my own life for pretty much all of this year in favor of one of the most inconsequentially petty "careers" imaginable, which eats my time and energy like a homeless guy on a t-bone. ive been wondering recently what i am doing this for, but i seriously just have no idea. i think that the pride i derive from kicking ass at my job is slowly starting to just not quite cut it. i need to go on an adventure soon, or im going to lose it. i think in a lot of ways, im already starting to. normally, i meditate, and figure out why i do all of the stupid things that i do. the past month, ive been making decisions, and watching as they pass, and get in my car having no idea what i'm doing at all, and just know that i need to sleep so i can spend more time at good ol' hangar 18. i dont really feel like me, and people have been commenting that they dont either, and its starting to make me think. in between the exhaustion, i have moments of clarity and relieved contentedness, but they just dont last long enough. i need to sleep. for like a week. im sick of not feeling like me, because i remember feeling like me as being pretty cool, and i want to get back tto doing that.
ive been making music recently. it's not that good, but it's not bad. it's nice to lie to yourself about having hidden skills, so i plan to do that until someone smacks me for it.
also, the fifth through eighth sentence of page 123 of the closest book at hand is as follows:
"when he got it to the point where he thought he'd be able to open it, he cautiously folded the knife and put it away. Then he lifted the lid.
At first he thought he was looking at a thermos bottle, one of those expensive stainless steel numbers, but as he lifted it out, the heft of it and the general fineness of manufacture told him that it was something else,"