Lost without a map
So what to me seems like minor forms of insanity have continued. Last night over one pint I have a surprisingly intellectual conversation with a pair of very unintellectual people. The moral there is that a lot of people at or around my age have a very apocolyptic view of the world. They are convinced that we will see the end of life as we know it in our life time. In one way they are correct with the constant minor political upheavals and the unending army ant march of technology. My vote goes more my different numbers though. If you listen to the experts, either God or Mother Nature is going to smite us off the world any day now for about the last thousand years. Why worry if you can't change it, and when the death it brings is far more likely to be swift.
On the other hand, evedently I can no longer communicate my thoughts to others in a clear mannor. There was a re-post on myspace that netted my all kinds of incorrect interpretations. Then this morning I discovered a bid at something to do being read as a romantic advance. I am either not choosing my words carefully enough or my subconcious is leading my typing fingers down paths that I do not seek in my waking life. OR...and this one I just can't believe since this has not classically been how my life works, the person doing the reading is projecting amourus intent. If he should be reading this, I don't have a better way to assure you that I was not trying to get with you. I just would like to hang out.
I have made numours attempts at writing anything of any value, even practice value and have come up totally dry. I have a vivid imagination, a passionate and easilly terrified heart, and thoughts about everything. I have even succeded in making a few writer friends but thus far I have achieved nothing that would come close to qualifiyng me as a peer. At least I finally have the day off that I have been lusting for. At least I have that.
On the other hand, evedently I can no longer communicate my thoughts to others in a clear mannor. There was a re-post on myspace that netted my all kinds of incorrect interpretations. Then this morning I discovered a bid at something to do being read as a romantic advance. I am either not choosing my words carefully enough or my subconcious is leading my typing fingers down paths that I do not seek in my waking life. OR...and this one I just can't believe since this has not classically been how my life works, the person doing the reading is projecting amourus intent. If he should be reading this, I don't have a better way to assure you that I was not trying to get with you. I just would like to hang out.
I have made numours attempts at writing anything of any value, even practice value and have come up totally dry. I have a vivid imagination, a passionate and easilly terrified heart, and thoughts about everything. I have even succeded in making a few writer friends but thus far I have achieved nothing that would come close to qualifiyng me as a peer. At least I finally have the day off that I have been lusting for. At least I have that.