I suppose I should update this thing
Right. It's been ages and a day since I wrote anything in here. Part of it is because I have been sucked in by Facebook. Part of it is because nothing has changed. Part of it is because I've been too depressed to write. Seriously. Ask theycallmeboy - he's been taking the brunt of it. Mostly because I have no one to drink and/or smoke hookah with.
Anyway, duffnstuff got me writing again, so I'm feeling a bit better. No matter what happens, it seems that language manipulation (better known as wordsmithing) still lights up my pleasure center like a Christmas tree on Three Mile Island. Which is to say, a whole god damn lot. This is both a good thing and a bad thing. The good thing is that I've found my passion. The bad thing is that readers don't want to buy published pieces (ie newspaper, magazine or online articles) anymore, and content providers don't want to pay people to produce them. That's what I think, anyway. There's always the distinct and worrying possibility that I'm not as good as I think I am. In which case I should probably line up some fresh, healthy replacement organs now, because it will take an ungodly amount of chemical suppression to keep me sane enough to work what is commonly known as a "day job". I am a Gemini, for god's sake. I don't take well to repetition.
The next person to tell me that I'm "lucky to have a job" and "at least you have money coming in" gets throttled. No lie. You know that repitition thing I mentioned? My current job has me saying the same thing up to 100 times a day. Literally. I have counted. And that's not to mention the occasional verbal abuse on the part of people who can't manage their own affairs - and decide to blame me for it.
I am fat. Really really. Not that there's anything wrong with this per se, but the added physical baggage also brings with it a general feeling of...feeling like crap. There's no other way to describe it.
My friends are moving forward on a daily basis, and I am observing it from a fixed position. It is driving me absolutely fucking batty, especially since all my efforts to move forward seem to result in nothing more than getting stuck in the mud. And it's the really sticky sort, too. The stuff you can't seem to get out of. I am reminded of this on a daily damn basis, or whenever my mother decides to bring it up. She's on more of a bi-weekly schedule.
I think it's time for a change. Or maybe a disappearance. But not before I go see Lewis Black with Dad in December.
Alright - I think I'm done! And just to recap for those who didn't click the cut, things are fine. Just...completely peachy.
And now, to bed.