Commitment Phobic!
I'm even commitment phobic towards lack of commitment. A commitment to, uh, incommitment even. Noncommitment? Uncommitment? I GIVE UP.
As in, it's really hard not go back to something you've had since you were 12. It's a comfort thing, I guess. A completely pointless one, but aren't most of them, anyway? As the seasons change, and the leaves of long lost lore fall yonder down the stream cascading into billows of forgotten belief... I'm kidding.
I've just been reading the journal of "some chick who goes to my school" and of course got competitive. Who sounds more intelligent? Who sounds more mature? I think it's her, someone who now appears to be more intelligent than I previously gave her credit for. She writes better than I do in here, but is just as angsty and cliched as any of us, if not more self righteous. The point is, this bothers me more than it should. I could do that too, I swear I could. But I'm trying to be honest and conversational, trying to avoid falling into the pit of self examination that is my pen-and-paper bound journal ("a leather bound book for your desires and submissions, your chronology of ecstasy your empty ammunition"; see, I can be angsty pseudo-eloquent too.) Rereading the preceding paragraph, I've failed. Trying to straddle the ground between honesty and entertainment is uncomfortable, but I keep gravitating back to it. It's like the fuzzy area between good taste and bad taste. Rarely beautiful but usually sort of interesting. Or do I have no idea what I'm even talking about.
Self-reference whaaaaaaaat.
I'm getting more and more disturbed by our reliance on technology (not even REAL technology, just, you know.. msn, facebook etc) and feel somehow compelled back to when it didn't bother me. Back when it was FUNNEWEXCITING instead of a rather worrying norm.
As in, it's really hard not go back to something you've had since you were 12. It's a comfort thing, I guess. A completely pointless one, but aren't most of them, anyway? As the seasons change, and the leaves of long lost lore fall yonder down the stream cascading into billows of forgotten belief... I'm kidding.
I've just been reading the journal of "some chick who goes to my school" and of course got competitive. Who sounds more intelligent? Who sounds more mature? I think it's her, someone who now appears to be more intelligent than I previously gave her credit for. She writes better than I do in here, but is just as angsty and cliched as any of us, if not more self righteous. The point is, this bothers me more than it should. I could do that too, I swear I could. But I'm trying to be honest and conversational, trying to avoid falling into the pit of self examination that is my pen-and-paper bound journal ("a leather bound book for your desires and submissions, your chronology of ecstasy your empty ammunition"; see, I can be angsty pseudo-eloquent too.) Rereading the preceding paragraph, I've failed. Trying to straddle the ground between honesty and entertainment is uncomfortable, but I keep gravitating back to it. It's like the fuzzy area between good taste and bad taste. Rarely beautiful but usually sort of interesting. Or do I have no idea what I'm even talking about.
Self-reference whaaaaaaaat.
I'm getting more and more disturbed by our reliance on technology (not even REAL technology, just, you know.. msn, facebook etc) and feel somehow compelled back to when it didn't bother me. Back when it was FUNNEWEXCITING instead of a rather worrying norm.