My Name Is: WhoAMi
Since getting into a six year relationship (that is still going on, although feels a bit like the ventilator recently kicked on to avert a cold blue), I have basically given up on LJ. Which is strange, because when I was writing here, even the really stupid shit, it was an amazing outlet, and means of flexing the ole' writing muscle. I honestly don't know what the fuck happened. I can't blame growing up - because I still lack even the most basic maturity. I can't blame facecock, because I hate that piece of shit site more than I loathe club remixes of hip hop. The only thing that is starting to become clear to me - especially after so much money spent on therapy, is that when I started to give up here, it was a symptom of creative apathy that I had no idea was going to spread to the rest of my life/ writing.
I met a ton of great people on here. Most are completely gone now - I've been going back and looking at when most of you quit blogging, and the consensus seems to be around 2008/2009. Yes, that would be just about the time when facecock was fucking your creative juices dry with shit like farmville. I used to think people that took those quizilla quizzes all day were annoying. Nope. I nearly chose to blind myself rather than see anymore shit like "who watered who's fucking crops." Now that shit was vapid. Additionally, I think I just completely lost track of what the hell this journal meant to me. I started trying to impress communities, groups, and certain poops. The tone began to take on this whole "my cock is this big, and I'll show you if you show me yours..." And I actually started to care/ to worry about the what ifs. The what if my GF happened upon my journal. I couldn't really say what I wanted to. Because I liked getting laid more than I liked talking shit. Well, cut to fucking six years later, and again - in therapy, there I am talking about livejournal. Nothing like life coming full circle. I would also like to ask LJ if they would also please reimburse my ass for that session too, since I basically spent an hour talking about the emotional merits of blogging and having cute, nerdy girls relating to you and occasionally talking all sexy an' shit. But in the end, the great thing that I look back on and like - is the period when "it" was put out there like a neon sign for all to read, good/ bad, tragic - whatever. I found a rhythm here, and I found people that listened for the first time. Pretty great.
I left the entertainment biz about four years ago. Biggest. Fucking. Mistake. Ever. I left because it got too hard, and I got too disenfranchised, and I was trying to impress my new girlfriend with my huge corporate balls. Well, in choosing that path, the screenwriting went bye bye. The blogging became more of a tedious last experiment in prose, and my voice internalized. I was afraid to acknowledge what writiing meant to me, and I was also afraid to be poor - and disappoint my girlfriend. I was afraid the things I would say, write, or do would be met with disapproval. Bottom line, for whatever reason, I became drunk with trying to please a bunch of other people. I'm still trying to get back in touch with that part of me that grew so tired of rejection or disappointment. I'm trying to engineer some way back into the ent. biz, although that is proving to be quite the punch in the gut. Reading old journal entries is pretty great. Especially after it has traced along a timeline that seems and feels so foreign now. It is precisely that feeling that I'm trying to rediscover. It is also proving to be one bitch of a hard thing to do.
Things change, people change. Things fade to black, and are recycled back into the grid. But there is some level of magic that was exchanged from user to user, and I was lucky enough to feel You. Part of me secretly hopes that some of you will find your way back, and we will rekindle the touch. It won't be the same, but it certainly doesn't have to mean that it has to be too grown up and droll.
Five PM. Time to drag my corporate ass out of this ergonomic chair, get into my Jetta, and go sit in traffic.
That previous sentence was the single most depressing thing I have ever written in my entire life.
I met a ton of great people on here. Most are completely gone now - I've been going back and looking at when most of you quit blogging, and the consensus seems to be around 2008/2009. Yes, that would be just about the time when facecock was fucking your creative juices dry with shit like farmville. I used to think people that took those quizilla quizzes all day were annoying. Nope. I nearly chose to blind myself rather than see anymore shit like "who watered who's fucking crops." Now that shit was vapid. Additionally, I think I just completely lost track of what the hell this journal meant to me. I started trying to impress communities, groups, and certain poops. The tone began to take on this whole "my cock is this big, and I'll show you if you show me yours..." And I actually started to care/ to worry about the what ifs. The what if my GF happened upon my journal. I couldn't really say what I wanted to. Because I liked getting laid more than I liked talking shit. Well, cut to fucking six years later, and again - in therapy, there I am talking about livejournal. Nothing like life coming full circle. I would also like to ask LJ if they would also please reimburse my ass for that session too, since I basically spent an hour talking about the emotional merits of blogging and having cute, nerdy girls relating to you and occasionally talking all sexy an' shit. But in the end, the great thing that I look back on and like - is the period when "it" was put out there like a neon sign for all to read, good/ bad, tragic - whatever. I found a rhythm here, and I found people that listened for the first time. Pretty great.
I left the entertainment biz about four years ago. Biggest. Fucking. Mistake. Ever. I left because it got too hard, and I got too disenfranchised, and I was trying to impress my new girlfriend with my huge corporate balls. Well, in choosing that path, the screenwriting went bye bye. The blogging became more of a tedious last experiment in prose, and my voice internalized. I was afraid to acknowledge what writiing meant to me, and I was also afraid to be poor - and disappoint my girlfriend. I was afraid the things I would say, write, or do would be met with disapproval. Bottom line, for whatever reason, I became drunk with trying to please a bunch of other people. I'm still trying to get back in touch with that part of me that grew so tired of rejection or disappointment. I'm trying to engineer some way back into the ent. biz, although that is proving to be quite the punch in the gut. Reading old journal entries is pretty great. Especially after it has traced along a timeline that seems and feels so foreign now. It is precisely that feeling that I'm trying to rediscover. It is also proving to be one bitch of a hard thing to do.
Things change, people change. Things fade to black, and are recycled back into the grid. But there is some level of magic that was exchanged from user to user, and I was lucky enough to feel You. Part of me secretly hopes that some of you will find your way back, and we will rekindle the touch. It won't be the same, but it certainly doesn't have to mean that it has to be too grown up and droll.
Five PM. Time to drag my corporate ass out of this ergonomic chair, get into my Jetta, and go sit in traffic.
That previous sentence was the single most depressing thing I have ever written in my entire life.