Photographs of Absurdity
Wherein, there shall be no pictures.
Just the following:
I've spent the last few weeks immensely worried that I will eventually end up the old guy on the porch with a shotgun, no visitors, no friends, and no family. Living solely to spite existence. I don't particularly care for this concept.
I actually enjoy interacting with people. Not all of them, mind you, and certainly not more than one or two at a time. But I really like being around people who could possibly, theoretically even, enjoy my presence.
Instead, I find myself withdrawing more and more into that shell of a life that I have built for myself. Work, work, work, and the occasional bout of work are my daily, weekly, and monthly schedules. Occasionally, for a change of pace, I will merely think about work, without attempting it.
Thrilling, I know.
I need to get out more, need to see people, need to give a damn.
I need beer and trivia in a restaurant again.
But, most of all, I need to stop trying to turn into Gregory House.
And then there were three.
Just the following:
I've spent the last few weeks immensely worried that I will eventually end up the old guy on the porch with a shotgun, no visitors, no friends, and no family. Living solely to spite existence. I don't particularly care for this concept.
I actually enjoy interacting with people. Not all of them, mind you, and certainly not more than one or two at a time. But I really like being around people who could possibly, theoretically even, enjoy my presence.
Instead, I find myself withdrawing more and more into that shell of a life that I have built for myself. Work, work, work, and the occasional bout of work are my daily, weekly, and monthly schedules. Occasionally, for a change of pace, I will merely think about work, without attempting it.
Thrilling, I know.
I need to get out more, need to see people, need to give a damn.
I need beer and trivia in a restaurant again.
But, most of all, I need to stop trying to turn into Gregory House.
And then there were three.