(no subject)
dear pen and paper,
my computer just crashed my journal entry into a bug hydrant. it had a little too much to process at The Motherboard bar. i think it needs help. it did this by itself...
it's a long dreary dark stormy night of an entry, so read only if you want to listen to me bitch
in reference to the title of this entry, my most recent (unposted) journal entry was lost due to a software malfunction. then of course, i had a behavior malfunction as my patience began to feel like water wrung out of a wet rag. the former post (may it rest in bytes) was a comparison of the thunder that drives you from the pool in fifteen minute intervals, and the idea of repeated failure. we'll treat this like a puzzle and see if you can put those two together with intellect glue. puzzles have been a major subject of interest for me lately. i should probably mention though, that i'm not actually doing puzzles. i just think that the idea of a man made contraption/object/get-this-oddly-shaped-metal-ring-off-the-other-oddly-shaped-metal-ring-game is very interesting. i really can't think of a different word to describe it. "perplexing" or "exciting" might work. i just think it's great how we entertain ourselves.
the second part of my now obliterated journal post was a nostalgic outstretched hand to my inner child. you do realize, that after a certain age, you never hold another hand that drops just above your reach? most children are fearless. sometimes i feel like the only adult thing about me is that i fear death because i like life too much. and don't want to give it up. i guess not at least before i get a chance to do what i want to do. notice i said "get a chance." not actually have had done it. because lord knows i've had my chances...
***
perfect plans cannot be made
i hate fights about merging onto interstates
i think people should realize there are other ways
not just theirs for only them to get them home again
to go home again
***
one of the saddness tragedies in the world is a person full of potential, of contagious happiness, and of goodness in unique form, who doesn't realize their effect on those around him or her.
is there a line that separates my morose entries from a sob story pity party?
Point : "i need to find the root of these feelings, i need to live them out, i need to relate these to life and recognize their causes and effects. i need to know myself."
Counterpoint : "i shouldn't feel like this. i have so much. i shouldn't feel like this. this is not being strong."
sometimes when i feel like i'm depressed, i just think of more serious problems of the human race. although this usually results in me feeling even worse for being shallow in my choice of subject for mourning. like, what am i doing right now? writing a stereotypical live journal entry that depicts the melodramatic problems of a privileged middle class college student.
I’ve been watching the elderly, and try to imagine myself with a wife and being that old.
I watch them and think about their lives, and how they must have been when they were young.
I see fathers protect their children and mother hold their hands. And it’s incredible to watch.
I think about me having and eighteen year old kid, or any of my friends for that matter, having kids our age.
I think about my parents, and how they loved before they met each other, and how they loved after.
I think about my spirit and soul. About how I’ve been living with myself. About how mistakes break your confidence into pieces, and yet when you put it back together, you‘re working with more pieces than you thought.. About how time only heals wounds if you make the effort to dress it. DOES THIS SOUND LIKE GODDAMNED CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL?
And about how people who love life more than I do, somehow are a threat. I try to love everything everyday. And I learned that from someone. I catch myself being lazy, and I try to change that by putting in more effort and trying my hardest.
But I still haven’t started on those t-shirts yet.
Some things upset me so bad, that I can’t think of anything else. Because I wouldn’t know how to tell you. Because I am unaccountable. Because I fail at the most important things. Because I live inside my head. Because I really have no idea what adulthood is, because I am not financially responsible. Because maybe I don’t look past tomorrow. Because maybe all I do is dream instead of set goals. Because I don’t think. Because my parents don’t know their son anymore. Because I am hollow. Because time is measured by something incredible which means nothing as well. Which is better? “I accomplished something that took 5 hours to do.” Or “I accomplished writing a poem today.” because no one’s waiting for me. Because I’m not waiting for anyone either. Because no one is waiting for me. Because I am not waiting for anyone either. Because no one is waiting for me. Because I am not waiting for anyone either. Because no one is waiting for me. Because I am not waiting for anyone either. Because I’m one in 6+ billion. Because other cultures exist. Other customs. Other languages. Other music. Other love. And I’m stuck inside my head. My selfishness. My desire to achieve greatness. My desire to make right what I’ve made wrong. My desire. Everyone says that they are confused. I say it too. I tell people, “I’m confused everyday.” but how do they react to it? “Jeremy… confused? No way, he’s always laughing, always talking about deep thoughts, always has a different way to see things… he must not be confused like I am. He probably just doesn’t know what he wants his major to be or something…” trust me, I could probably relate to a lot of your confusion. And if I can’t, hopefully I can recognize enough of it to help out. Do I just want to be listened to? Doesn’t everyone? It’s just that there are certain ways to going about it. There are always certain ways of going about it. When you do it wrong, but you didn’t know. Where does the fault lie? God I’m depressing myself…
my computer just crashed my journal entry into a bug hydrant. it had a little too much to process at The Motherboard bar. i think it needs help. it did this by itself...
it's a long dreary dark stormy night of an entry, so read only if you want to listen to me bitch
in reference to the title of this entry, my most recent (unposted) journal entry was lost due to a software malfunction. then of course, i had a behavior malfunction as my patience began to feel like water wrung out of a wet rag. the former post (may it rest in bytes) was a comparison of the thunder that drives you from the pool in fifteen minute intervals, and the idea of repeated failure. we'll treat this like a puzzle and see if you can put those two together with intellect glue. puzzles have been a major subject of interest for me lately. i should probably mention though, that i'm not actually doing puzzles. i just think that the idea of a man made contraption/object/get-this-oddly-shaped-metal-ring-off-the-other-oddly-shaped-metal-ring-game is very interesting. i really can't think of a different word to describe it. "perplexing" or "exciting" might work. i just think it's great how we entertain ourselves.
the second part of my now obliterated journal post was a nostalgic outstretched hand to my inner child. you do realize, that after a certain age, you never hold another hand that drops just above your reach? most children are fearless. sometimes i feel like the only adult thing about me is that i fear death because i like life too much. and don't want to give it up. i guess not at least before i get a chance to do what i want to do. notice i said "get a chance." not actually have had done it. because lord knows i've had my chances...
***
perfect plans cannot be made
i hate fights about merging onto interstates
i think people should realize there are other ways
not just theirs for only them to get them home again
to go home again
***
one of the saddness tragedies in the world is a person full of potential, of contagious happiness, and of goodness in unique form, who doesn't realize their effect on those around him or her.
is there a line that separates my morose entries from a sob story pity party?
Point : "i need to find the root of these feelings, i need to live them out, i need to relate these to life and recognize their causes and effects. i need to know myself."
Counterpoint : "i shouldn't feel like this. i have so much. i shouldn't feel like this. this is not being strong."
sometimes when i feel like i'm depressed, i just think of more serious problems of the human race. although this usually results in me feeling even worse for being shallow in my choice of subject for mourning. like, what am i doing right now? writing a stereotypical live journal entry that depicts the melodramatic problems of a privileged middle class college student.
I’ve been watching the elderly, and try to imagine myself with a wife and being that old.
I watch them and think about their lives, and how they must have been when they were young.
I see fathers protect their children and mother hold their hands. And it’s incredible to watch.
I think about me having and eighteen year old kid, or any of my friends for that matter, having kids our age.
I think about my parents, and how they loved before they met each other, and how they loved after.
I think about my spirit and soul. About how I’ve been living with myself. About how mistakes break your confidence into pieces, and yet when you put it back together, you‘re working with more pieces than you thought.. About how time only heals wounds if you make the effort to dress it. DOES THIS SOUND LIKE GODDAMNED CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL?
And about how people who love life more than I do, somehow are a threat. I try to love everything everyday. And I learned that from someone. I catch myself being lazy, and I try to change that by putting in more effort and trying my hardest.
But I still haven’t started on those t-shirts yet.
Some things upset me so bad, that I can’t think of anything else. Because I wouldn’t know how to tell you. Because I am unaccountable. Because I fail at the most important things. Because I live inside my head. Because I really have no idea what adulthood is, because I am not financially responsible. Because maybe I don’t look past tomorrow. Because maybe all I do is dream instead of set goals. Because I don’t think. Because my parents don’t know their son anymore. Because I am hollow. Because time is measured by something incredible which means nothing as well. Which is better? “I accomplished something that took 5 hours to do.” Or “I accomplished writing a poem today.” because no one’s waiting for me. Because I’m not waiting for anyone either. Because no one is waiting for me. Because I am not waiting for anyone either. Because no one is waiting for me. Because I am not waiting for anyone either. Because no one is waiting for me. Because I am not waiting for anyone either. Because I’m one in 6+ billion. Because other cultures exist. Other customs. Other languages. Other music. Other love. And I’m stuck inside my head. My selfishness. My desire to achieve greatness. My desire to make right what I’ve made wrong. My desire. Everyone says that they are confused. I say it too. I tell people, “I’m confused everyday.” but how do they react to it? “Jeremy… confused? No way, he’s always laughing, always talking about deep thoughts, always has a different way to see things… he must not be confused like I am. He probably just doesn’t know what he wants his major to be or something…” trust me, I could probably relate to a lot of your confusion. And if I can’t, hopefully I can recognize enough of it to help out. Do I just want to be listened to? Doesn’t everyone? It’s just that there are certain ways to going about it. There are always certain ways of going about it. When you do it wrong, but you didn’t know. Where does the fault lie? God I’m depressing myself…