What if you had the solutions to all the world’s problems? Would anyone listen?
What does Chaim Potok do if it’s Shabbos and he’s struck with a great idea for writing?
Why is it we always use someone else’s art to express ourselves?
Why does it pay more to play sports professionally than to solve all the world’s problems?
As an example:
I was invited to the department-wide Christmas party. I ended up hemming and hawing about going. I did find out on the last day that there is a train that goes there, but I’m not really sure how’d I get home. I don’t think I know anyone well enough to ask for a ride. What am I scared of other than being stranded?
W00t! Sick on my birthday. No plans to cancel. Maybe to depressed. Feel like I didn’t use the last decade of my life properly. Not enough having fun. Such limited time here and I seem to waste it all.
Waiting for my brother to start his job and my cold to go away. . .
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Sunday, December 10, 2006
kill or die
You wonder why death scares me so much? It’s very simple.
There is no afterlife. Not yet. The only thing left are memories and your creations.
I will be forgotten maybe just a little quicker than I’d like. In the torrent of creation the Internet spawned, all my work is lost even if it was of any quality.
They’ve all stopped listening because I stopped producing. I only have myself to blame.
But what else is new? Would I be much better off if I ever got beyond that impasse?
Great. Creating yet another couple supernatural killers. One walks through walls; the other slows down the flow of time. Darkness has pervaded my only creativity. I now reside in a pit of despair. Almost convinced nothing can change. Because in my world, nothing ever does. My brother may be the only wild card. But he’s not very reliable.
Who do I have to kill to change my personality? Nah that won’t work. The only thing stronger than my id is my superego.
I want to make a stand but I’m so paralyzed.
Hmm. I think I have to tear down the wall from Pink Floyd.
There is no afterlife. Not yet. The only thing left are memories and your creations.
I will be forgotten maybe just a little quicker than I’d like. In the torrent of creation the Internet spawned, all my work is lost even if it was of any quality.
They’ve all stopped listening because I stopped producing. I only have myself to blame.
But what else is new? Would I be much better off if I ever got beyond that impasse?
Great. Creating yet another couple supernatural killers. One walks through walls; the other slows down the flow of time. Darkness has pervaded my only creativity. I now reside in a pit of despair. Almost convinced nothing can change. Because in my world, nothing ever does. My brother may be the only wild card. But he’s not very reliable.
Who do I have to kill to change my personality? Nah that won’t work. The only thing stronger than my id is my superego.
I want to make a stand but I’m so paralyzed.
Hmm. I think I have to tear down the wall from Pink Floyd.
Tuesday, December 05, 2006
lament
I used to think I had something to offer. Now, I just hang on by a thread.
Why am I still alive if I have nothing to offer?
The thread will eventually break. When it does, I better have something else to hold on to or. . .
Lament: I have always been alone and alone I will remain.
My lament remains true. A self-fulfilling prophecy. I can’t even really maintain a friendship. I even let all conversations die a horrible death.
Take the happy pill and be satisfied with where are you in life. Or don’t and wallow in depression. What wonderful choices!
Yeah, so it’s been over a month. If I actually posted on here regularly maybe I wouldn’t have so many problems. Why don’t I? There’s never really a good reason.
Why am I still alive if I have nothing to offer?
The thread will eventually break. When it does, I better have something else to hold on to or. . .
Lament: I have always been alone and alone I will remain.
My lament remains true. A self-fulfilling prophecy. I can’t even really maintain a friendship. I even let all conversations die a horrible death.
Take the happy pill and be satisfied with where are you in life. Or don’t and wallow in depression. What wonderful choices!
Yeah, so it’s been over a month. If I actually posted on here regularly maybe I wouldn’t have so many problems. Why don’t I? There’s never really a good reason.
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