ethical misadventures
completededly now.
i've been minus the effect of connect. and things have had the fortune (or misfortune) of leaking from my brain in stupid, insidious times where i'm unable to write them. pushing hard on my thoughts, like a bloodclot sitting on my brain. and when it comes time to throw, nay spew them out into a controlled area like this journal or a written journal, it's gone.
everyone has a niche. but then again, everyone has a fault. i come from two families with bad memories for people's names. i didn't know kat's name by heart until she moved in with me. i dont know half of your names outside of the ones you go by when i read on. that's not necessarily a bad thing, it's just, i know who i'm close to and where i have to get to go to the rest. i keep trying to update this. this update started at around 6:40am but people fly by my desk and strike up conversations like there's nothing against me to stop them. and since work related can't be spelled in "livejournal", alt + tab becomes my new friend. i've always wondered, if i wrote like this in short storied book form, how long would it take, and who would buy it, and what would i call it? though most people know where they want to go with life, i haven't decided what door to pop through. i keep opening them and staring into the abyss just long enough to garner some attention to whatever's behind it.
and so begins another new course turn slam bakedness way of my journal writing, of my journal heading. serious jibberish and morse code. paragraphs of nothing filled with a bit of something enough to make you scratch your head and chin, and smile happily while strolling down confusion street.
i've realized that in the middle of paragraph one... something sat in the middle of nowhere. everyone has a niche. but then again, everyone has a fault. i wanted to get ahead on this a bit earlier, while walking down to the bus stop this morning staring at the sunrise. people have things.. someone can serve a good cup of joe, someone else can write a good song, others can sit in front of televisions and talk their guts out for newsworthy purposes. but what if you dont know what yours is, what if you've found a few things you're good at, and a combination of them is like drinking milk and eating salt and vinegar chips? separately, i guess. take a run at acting, mr. musician. maybe your stagediving will amount to a good cameo somewhere. but are people really born to be waking up every day, making the drudge to work and sitting in a cubicle watching their hands fall apart? i'd hope not. everyone should be able to commit some sort of felony or art. i'm kind of in between. trouble likes to find me and therefore i write about it. or vice versa.
bring on the babbling. maybe an lj cut would be good to follow this now, because it's spearing on the long side. hm. we'll see.
it's early. i can edit this to my heart's content without worrying about people recieving half stories, and can catch up on a week's worth of listings where people have posted part of their hearts into a little box with a small picture that means something to them. oh, the ramblies make me odd with fun today.
I think i'd like to become the spokesperson for the ADD generation. though most would be pre-occupied whilst I would make my speeches, i'd find some way to get your attention.. switch subjects quickly, not drag on too long about something. now you know why apocalypse now hasn't been seen by as many people as it should. friends, confidants, other people i know just don't have the attention span to sit in front of a tv for 3 hours intently waiting for something to happen. they want explosions, loud yelling NOW! rather than later. its hard even reading long books for me. i dont know where it went. it took me three times to pick up the book im reading now. maybe i was scared that it was about 300 pages long. who knows. but i think i'd make a difference, speaking for the people who can't read into this far of a post, who can't watch virgin suicides without twitching like a maniac after 40 minutes. these same people like shows as jackass because it's easy humor and doesn't take much thought. that's why our music industry is full of three minute catchy pop melodies. that's why our books are pamphlets. that's why the thompsons and the pattons and the coppola's don't enough credit as they should for keeping the good things in life real good. escapable. outside of the norm.
because if you want to find the good, and you want to pay attention, you'll be able to.
my points started out completely opposite than what i started. and that's why i should be the spokesperson for the ADD generation.
and that's where i end. where i began.
i've been minus the effect of connect. and things have had the fortune (or misfortune) of leaking from my brain in stupid, insidious times where i'm unable to write them. pushing hard on my thoughts, like a bloodclot sitting on my brain. and when it comes time to throw, nay spew them out into a controlled area like this journal or a written journal, it's gone.
everyone has a niche. but then again, everyone has a fault. i come from two families with bad memories for people's names. i didn't know kat's name by heart until she moved in with me. i dont know half of your names outside of the ones you go by when i read on. that's not necessarily a bad thing, it's just, i know who i'm close to and where i have to get to go to the rest. i keep trying to update this. this update started at around 6:40am but people fly by my desk and strike up conversations like there's nothing against me to stop them. and since work related can't be spelled in "livejournal", alt + tab becomes my new friend. i've always wondered, if i wrote like this in short storied book form, how long would it take, and who would buy it, and what would i call it? though most people know where they want to go with life, i haven't decided what door to pop through. i keep opening them and staring into the abyss just long enough to garner some attention to whatever's behind it.
and so begins another new course turn slam bakedness way of my journal writing, of my journal heading. serious jibberish and morse code. paragraphs of nothing filled with a bit of something enough to make you scratch your head and chin, and smile happily while strolling down confusion street.
i've realized that in the middle of paragraph one... something sat in the middle of nowhere. everyone has a niche. but then again, everyone has a fault. i wanted to get ahead on this a bit earlier, while walking down to the bus stop this morning staring at the sunrise. people have things.. someone can serve a good cup of joe, someone else can write a good song, others can sit in front of televisions and talk their guts out for newsworthy purposes. but what if you dont know what yours is, what if you've found a few things you're good at, and a combination of them is like drinking milk and eating salt and vinegar chips? separately, i guess. take a run at acting, mr. musician. maybe your stagediving will amount to a good cameo somewhere. but are people really born to be waking up every day, making the drudge to work and sitting in a cubicle watching their hands fall apart? i'd hope not. everyone should be able to commit some sort of felony or art. i'm kind of in between. trouble likes to find me and therefore i write about it. or vice versa.
bring on the babbling. maybe an lj cut would be good to follow this now, because it's spearing on the long side. hm. we'll see.
it's early. i can edit this to my heart's content without worrying about people recieving half stories, and can catch up on a week's worth of listings where people have posted part of their hearts into a little box with a small picture that means something to them. oh, the ramblies make me odd with fun today.
I think i'd like to become the spokesperson for the ADD generation. though most would be pre-occupied whilst I would make my speeches, i'd find some way to get your attention.. switch subjects quickly, not drag on too long about something. now you know why apocalypse now hasn't been seen by as many people as it should. friends, confidants, other people i know just don't have the attention span to sit in front of a tv for 3 hours intently waiting for something to happen. they want explosions, loud yelling NOW! rather than later. its hard even reading long books for me. i dont know where it went. it took me three times to pick up the book im reading now. maybe i was scared that it was about 300 pages long. who knows. but i think i'd make a difference, speaking for the people who can't read into this far of a post, who can't watch virgin suicides without twitching like a maniac after 40 minutes. these same people like shows as jackass because it's easy humor and doesn't take much thought. that's why our music industry is full of three minute catchy pop melodies. that's why our books are pamphlets. that's why the thompsons and the pattons and the coppola's don't enough credit as they should for keeping the good things in life real good. escapable. outside of the norm.
because if you want to find the good, and you want to pay attention, you'll be able to.
my points started out completely opposite than what i started. and that's why i should be the spokesperson for the ADD generation.
and that's where i end. where i began.