i finally tried minecraft.

It always seems like I run here when I hit a big rut. I run here to explain to nobody, to explain to some now-occupied bytes in Google's servers, to explain how I'm doing. I spell out what's happening in my world for no one to understand. You could just say that it's a diary or a journal, but I write as if someone will read it. Nobody will read it.

I've been feeling completely uncomfortable with myself lately. I feel embarrassed to live inside my body.

Everything I want to achieve is either out of reach or too difficult for my weak will to bear.

I don't have a job. I dropped out in May and I still don't have a job. Everything is so unappealing. I hate that I have the luxury to do that. I'm in a perfect metastatic state of nothingness. I wish I had a difficult life. I wish I were poor. Sometimes I fantasize about leaving my house with a big coat and a backpack and being homeless. Maybe then I'd gain some sense of motivation to be something.

But I don't have that. I have desire, but no motivation.

Too many people couple things that are really close to each other, but are not the same thing. People say that if I want to be something, I should be motivated. I am not. I wish I were.

I strip it all down and decide that I'm warped in some fundamental way. Maybe it was all the praise as a kid for being intelligent. Maybe it's the fact that I learned not to ask for much, thereby never wanting much.

All three of my parental figures are negative influences on me. My stepdad is a fat moron who worked hard to get where he is. He's bitter and he's emotionally fucked up. My dad is a schemer, constantly having ideas that will propel him forward, but never following through with them. He gets tired of his women quickly and leaves them. He struggles to get work, probably due to lack of interest. At this point I'm pretty sure he just does odd jobs for friends and lives in a house owned by a friend who buys property. I haven't seen him in over a year. It doesn't affect me like it does most movie and TV children; I'm not sad about daddy not being there. I don't care. In fact, I'm just glad that our awkward interactions have been reduced to well-wishing on holidays and birthdays via text message. My mom is rebellious and ignorant. She's forgetful and desperate for conversation. She refuses to accept things that are written in stone. She makes me feel like shit every single day, constantly hinting at hurrying along with getting a job or going back to school. And worst of all, saying shit like "You have a brilliant mind." or "You're destined to do great things." or "You could be the president if you wanted to be.". I feel like if I could go one week without anybody saying anything to me, I would have to do something. Pestering me seems to reset the gauge.

I dislike myself and if I were another person, I wouldn't be friends with me. I embody so many annoying, negative qualities. And yet I feel entitled to friendships and interest in my life. Is that true? Do I have some sense of entitlement to that? Do I think that people must find me interesting? I don't think I'm interesting. But I think that some people are less interesting. I dislike myself.

I want to break out. I wish I could do what I said I was going to do and write movie scripts. I can't do it though. I can think of great ideas in the middle of the day, but then when I try to transform it into work, I shut down. I feel like if I could just have some weed and be able to smoke it somewhere without fear of capture, I could produce something. Weed is a splendid thing. With weed, my head is like the wheels on a slot machine, spinning and spinning and constantly inviting new thoughts to the forefront of my consciousness. Without it, my head is that same slot machine after being abandoned for fifty years, all fucked up and rusted out, and if you tried to pull the lever, the wheels might creak into a different position before completely giving up.

But weed is illegal and it costs money and I have to purchase it from people I don't know. I get a knot in my stomach if the possibility of smoking even remotely comes up. But once I go through with it, I love it. That feeling is amazing. The anxiety falls away. A large problem, though, is that the anxiety multiplies when I'm not in a safe place, which I never am. With smoking weed, safety comes in degrees. The only time I've ever experienced 100% safety is in Jake's living room with a vaporizer. The next level is on Jake's porch, which is about an 85% for me because there are neighbors and noisy co-smokers and cars driving past. This is where it happens the majority of the time, but it rarely happens anymore. Jake used to be a daily smoker. He ruined it for himself. One day, he had a panic attack while high and decided to give it up. It's so ridiculous to consider the fact that anybody will "quit" smoking weed. That quitting is something that they must do in order to get on with their lives. "Oh yeah, I used to smoke all the time and blow all my paychecks on it. I just had to give it up." Fuck you. You ruined it for yourself. I appreciate it so much because of how rarely I get to experience it. At the same time, 99% of the times I've experienced it have been so horribly incomplete. I'm wrapped up in the anxiety of it and can't even enjoy it entirely. I hate the idea of walking around my neighborhood at night, hoping a patrol cop with nothing else to do won't roll up. Yeah, that happened once, and through some kind of miracle nothing came of it. And I hate even more the idea of sitting in my backyard hoping a neighbor won't smell anything or hear me cough or that my mom won't come downstairs for a glass of water and wonder, since my bedroom and the living room are empty, where I am.

I wish I had my own place, but that requires money. I wish I could play music, but I have nobody who's interested.

I see people in bands and wonder how they found each other. I imagine that it's because they've always been friends, hung out together for years, and developed similar music tastes. It's impossible to start a band from scratch anymore, to find three or four other people from out in the world who want to play what you want to play. Because of the internet, the avenues are far too broad and nobody will ever see your Craigslist post or your message board post. I wish I were a part of the era where a flier was a viable method of forming a band-- a flier on the wall with little pull-off tabs with your phone number on it. I'm pretty sure that's how Explosions In The Sky got together.

I waste so much energy being mad at the world and myself. I've thought, logically, about killing myself, but I always conclude that it will eventually get better. I don't, however, have "suicidal thoughts". Those are for stupid people who think they're the center of their bleak universe. It will eventually get better. If, one day, I'm 35 and still dragging along like this, I think I'll kill myself. I won't make it private and painless though. I'll make it a big spectacle that will somehow change the world for the better. I'll do something for gay rights or marijuana legalization. I'll open people's eyes with a leap from the Sears Tower with a banner tied to me that says something vaguely thought-provoking. The media will eat it up and open the floor for a real discussion of the matter.

That is, if I really do go nowhere.

deer dairy

It's weird how quickly I can look back lately and see how much I'm changing lately. It's almost at the point where I look at myself a week ago and wonder what I was thinking. Today for the first time in a while I withheld the urge to do something because I foresaw myself looking back and having distaste for it. Is that a good quality to have? I guess it could be debated both ways.

I'm seeing a therapist regularly now, but it's weird because we have nothing to talk about. We could probably talk about something if I were more comfortable with the experience, but I have no real problem urgent enough to communicate. I just have a handful of strange internal struggles. I don't think I've posted since I got officially diagnosed with inattentive type ADHD. I'm being put on Adderall and I'm happy about that. I'd like to be able to live up to my full potential. I guess technically I'm going beyond my potential if potential is meant to be defined as a natural thing. It doesn't matter. But yeah, I'm seeing a therapist because my mom thinks it'll help me get on the right track, but even my therapist agrees that it seems like I know what I'm doing.

I'm getting a job soon hopefully. A friend is getting me placed into a position opening up at the cafe area of Barnes and Noble which is a Starbucks. I really never thought I'd be working at a Starbucks, but I suppose I do enjoy repetitive tasks and using blenders. The only thing I'm worried about is the espresso and steamed milk. I'm scared of learning to operate new machinery. Once I get the hang of it though, it'll be easy and routine.

I've been trying to reflect on myself a lot lately. I feel like I know myself pretty well from the outside in, but not from the inside out. I don't think I understand most of my driving motivations just yet. The more vocabulary I learn to describe a person, the easier it becomes. It also comes from reading or hearing other people telling about themselves. When I relate to certain things I start to realize more about myself. Strangely enough, I've been relating a lot to Dexter from the show Dexter. I'm not a psychopath, but I do lack some ability to feel emotion. I feel like I have a limited frame of emotions. The ones that most people feel I feel to a lesser extent, but the "deeper-mind" emotions are way more amplified, like guilt or deep sadness or appreciation of beauty. I understand that a lot of that comes from intelligence, but part of me wonders whether I'm wired differently as well.

I've been accepting more and more lately that life means nothing, but strangely enough it isn't really bothering me. I know that life is fun subjectively and that's all that should matter to me. I've basically lost all attachment to material possessions pretty recently. I used to save everything I'd pull out of my pockets when I got home, but now I'm quick to throw useless items away. I don't freak out when I damage or break something. I used to get really sad if a glass or a plate ever got broken in my house simply because that object's time of function had ended. Hahaha! But now I accept that it's just an object crafted out of materials that have always existed and will always exist in some form. There will always be the same number of particles. They don't go away, so I don't ever have to mourn them. It's weird to think that I've mourned inanimate objects before. I was an odd child. I really was. I think that adds so much to who I am now though. I understand normalcy so much better than somebody who has always been normal. Unfortunately, that leads to me being able to very easily pick out flaws in just about anything or anyone. Worse yet, many of those flaws tend to bother me. Don't get me wrong, nonexistent reader, I have my own flaws that bother me. I know that I'm flawed too. I'm not an elitist. Certain flaws just rock me to the core. I wish it weren't that way. I'm not saying that I'm unable to accept people and their flaws. I love a good handful of people-- my good friends. But sometimes it's like having a famous piece of art hanging in your living room, but there's a coffee ring on it. You can almost always appreciate the painting completely, but every now and then your eyes will return to the stain and you'll hate it until the painting as a whole distracts you from it again.

I've been getting closer to my friends lately. I wish it weren't afraid to show them the full me though. I feel like a good few parts of me are unacceptable. I'm glad I recognize that though. I hate to see a socially inept person who is such only because they don't recognize their flaws. Some things are meant to stay in the dark. For example, I really wish I could be physically closer to my female friends-- not because I'm some kind of pervert or creeper or frotteurist. I just relate really closely with my female friends because I'm a pretty feminine guy and I feel like that physical contact demonstrates a strong bond. Granted, I really am not that close with any of my female friends yet, but I'd like to get there. I used to have female friends who I could cuddle up with and watch a movie and it wouldn't be weird or nonplatonic at all. Anyway. As for my male friends, I find myself getting closer to them. I'm becoming more comfortable with males as a gender. I think for me it just required finding guys who are open about who they are, and I definitely have that in most of if not all of my male friends. I can't even imagine what it's like to be a jock-type with that lingering homophobia that prevents them from revealing their true traits to their friends. But yeah, now that I'm living at home I think I'll be able to develop much better relationships with all of my friends.

A big part of it is self-confidence. I'm finally on an acne medication that works for me. I'm socially shattered if I have anything outstanding on my face. I can't function if I feel like any negative attention is on a part of my appearance, and the only part of my appearance that I can't control is my face-- until now. Epiduo is the shit. The consistent clearness hasn't kicked in yet, but it will. It did when I first had it, but then my supply ran out and I didn't refill my prescription until recently. I have to go through the dryness phase again, but after that I'll be able to just let loose and not worry about it. I love being able to hang out with friends without worrying about that red lump on my cheek coming to a head. I hate that so much. I won't go out if I have anything like that on me. Everybody says that I notice it ten times more than anybody else, but I don't know. I just can't be confident without my skin being clear. My mind always comes back to it.

I'm taking up freestyle rapping. I've found that a pretty good practice time is while I'm mowing the lawn with instrumental beats in my headphones. I'm the only one who can hear me. I'm beginning to develop a better vocabulary. That combined with my upcoming focus medication will make me pretty good I think. I'm also gonna try to write some stuff and produce some beats.

I need to start exercising regularly, but I keep putting it off. I want to run every other day and lift weights the every other days in between the running days. I've run a couple times and I really liked it. I also love the feeling after lifting weights and having my arms feel lighter and faster. I assume that it starts to feel that way after building some unnecessary muscle? I don't want to be muscular or anything. I think my perfect ideal physique is that of Voldo from Soul Calibur. He has muscle on his arms, some pectorals, no six-pack but an extremely toned abdomen, and thick, solid legs. I think my base physique is pretty similar to what his would be also, because he too is six feet tall and Italian. So yeah, gonna shoot for the Voldo.

I've been pretty interested in law lately. I think I'm gonna visit the Supreme Court this fall and view an argument. I think I'm gonna go to the one versus the Westboro Baptist Church and the whole funeral protest thing. It should be pretty interesting. Also, I kind of fathom that I'll be studying for when I go to the Supreme Court, haha. I fathom that I'll be the one to legalize weed if it doesn't happen on its own. I have a pretty strong case I think. I've got way more research to do.

That's all I can really think of for now.

( = )

I need a motivation pill.

creativing

I have myself on a good regimen: do a comic and a musical composition every day.

I'm constantly aware of the Retrospect Pretentiousness-Toolbag Factor. It should be a law of existence. I will even look back on these sentences and think I was dumb for writing them.

great job

!@#$1234

I don't know how to feel about myself. I'm debating whether I have any talent. Maybe I'm just afflicted with confidence. I'm gonna try to enter Tim and Eric's promo contest for season five. It'll be my first official video project. I did some recording this weekend for Chris's tongue-in-cheek metalcore project called "verbnounverb". Although I only used two really generic vocal tones, I'm happy with the outcome. He told me that he wanted the name of the song to be "Physics Is Phun," so I wrote it as if I were Einstein with a migraine. There's some funny reference to Einstein stuff. I think my favorite part is:

Frankie
You want a bomb?
Find uranium
And build it yourself

There's also a part about James Clerk Maxwell and a part about relativity. The final breakdown is E=MC^2.

Super Bowl today. I have the Colts in the bet, but I think the Saints have the valiant factor.

I've been whining to myself lately about how I wish I had the capability to make my own music. The thing is, I do have that capability. I'm just not interested in putting in the work. I hate that about myself. I think I'll just forever continue to search for a band that I can be a vocalist for. Being a vocalist is easy. Too easy. They put in about 1/20 of the effort that the rest of the musicians put in. Granted, there are some notably "great" vocalists, but that doesn't change the fact that they really don't have to work very hard to produce their results. I want to be like Peet from iamerror. He calls himself Monomate now and he does these great instrumentals which I'm pretty sure he does entirely with Fruity Loops. Fuck. I hope brain waves can be converted into visual and audio before I die. I have great music in my head. I'm sure everybody does though.

I find myself getting really fired up over the war on drugs lately. If I weren't afraid that it would affect the rest of my dreams in life, I think I would want to be the Martin Luther King of the drug revolution. My policy would be to legalize marijuana, psilocybin, peyote(mescaline), and LSD. Every other drug, I would want decriminalized and education put into effect to warn of the dangers (the real dangers, not the government propagandized dangers) of all drugs. Conveniently, no real dangers have been tied to marijuana and no conclusive dangers have been tied to psilocybin, mescaline, or LSD as far as I've seen in my dabbled research. Apparently most of the shit we've heard about these drugs is complete garbage. One thing that has scared me most about LSD is the "flashbacks," but I'm reading in a lot of places that accounts of flashbacks are extremely exaggerated and hyberbolized. Also, LSD doesn't stay in your spinal cord.

I found out recently that Tim and Eric went to Temple and that Tim grew up in Allentown. That's pretty neat.

That's all for now I think. Oh, I can't wait for Final Fantasy XIII. They fixed the stupid battle system that they imposed in FFXII. It's still not the original battle system though. What it is now is that you can see the enemies on the world map, but now when you come into contact with them, it does the whoosh cutscene thing and then you battle. In FFXII, all the battling took place right in the main walking-around gameplay. The original, of course, is random whoosh cutscenes as you're walking around without warning. That's why FFX will remain the best title in the series.

That's all for now I think.

home for winter

I've been home getting my re-lax on for a few days now. It feels good to be home.

I'm working on a flash cartoon that is very sad.

Dave and I are cooking up something awesome for [as].

Modern Warfare 2 rules.

So do kiffles.